The elevator reached the top floor with a ding that Harry felt was miles away. A crimson streak of blood that wasn't his own splayed across his cheek, several others splashed against his designer suit. He backed up against the wall and slid to the floor as the doors creaked open, then closed. "Brandon…" His eyes were bright and intense, filled with shock, fear, and hate. His palm, his fingers were clammy against the steel of his gun, his pointer finger still brushing the trigger. The .45 was smoking, hot against his skin, and though it was a warm breeze that slipped through the shattered glass of the elevator he shivered as it ran its bodiless fingers through his hair. Several shards fell to the floor and cracked into pieces. They echoed with the sudden crack in his soul.
"Why did you betray me?" he asked in the silence. The elevator began a descent. He leant his head back on the wall and gave a soft, pathetic moan. "You chose that old man over me, didn't you, Brandon? You chose him over me…and her. You chose Maria over me, too." He fingered the trigger. "You chose them both over me, your best friend." He gritted his teeth. "Damn you, Brandon! Damn you to hell!" He threw the cooling gun through the open gash in the glass, watched it disappear in the distance. Cars were screeching, honking. He knew it was from the broken body that had slammed into the concrete of the street below. His best friend's broken, bleeding body. And he had done it. He clenched his jaw against the close memory of Brandon's face, his quiet pain at Harry's request for help, the shock in his eyes when the bullet from Harry's magnum collided with his chest. The broken glass, Brandon's strong body stumbling, falling—
Drawing his knees close to his chest, wrapping his arms around them he quietly sobbed, "Damn you, my best friend." He squeezed his eyes tight against the tears that came. Against the fact that now he could never bring him back, and at the terrible question of if he would want to or not. The confusion there that made him fear himself. "I thought we were going to climb the ladder together—I thought we'd be partners in leading Millenion—you wouldn't let me kill him, wouldn't help me!" He gasped. "I thought I could turn to you for help." His face bore a scowl, but his jaw trembled. "Why'd you betray me, Brandon? My best friend—the only one who's stayed by my side. Why now?
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to—I'm sorry, I didn't want to have to…my best friend." He drew his finger to the splash of blood on his cheek, touched the warm stain there. "If you hadn't betrayed me I wouldn't have had to kill you."