He rarely wore his watch. Didn't like to be reminded of what it represented. Reminded of the burden that came with the watch.
Because of the watch, he had killed. Killed because he was ordered to. Even through he hadn't wanted to.
Roy closed his eyes, letting a hand rest against his forehead. Boy had he wished he hadn't. Wish he could take it back. Both bullets. Two strands of pain intertwine like lovers. Which they were, thought grimly.
Roy placed the watch on the table, watching it sparkle.
Almost like it was not to blame for his troubles.