I could still hear the gunshots…four of them. One for each of us that had been there: Stan, Kay, Beau…and me. But I was still standing. I was still able to defend myself.
They, on the other hand, were not. And I watched, mentally, over and over as they fell, one by one, again and again. A feeling of guilt settled over me when I looked down at my shoes.
I could still feel myself slipping in their blood, trying to get a shot off. But it never happened. I'd faltered for a moment, and in that moment, our assailant made his escape. He wouldn't be free for long if he remained in the city. Every cop in Baltimore would want his blood before the end of the day. I knew this, but the thought brought no comfort.
The shoes themselves were completely ruined, covered by their blood, but it hardly mattered, and I really didn't care. Even now, hours later, I could still hear myself saying seven words…seven words that would end up haunting me for a while: "I've got their blood on my shoes…" It wasn't something that I could drown in a bottle.
When I went home, I sat there, staring off into nothingness and feeling like I was falling. I didn't think there would be anyone to catch me before I hit the grown, and I didn't think I wanted anyone to catch me. One of those bullets had been meant for me; I was lucky to have gotten out of there unharmed. And despite this, part of me wished that I was unconscious, laid out on a table, but still alongside my comrades.
When I finally managed to close my eyes, I saw blood…and it was everywhere.
A/N: So, yeah. This is what happens when I see that TNT is reairing H:LOTS and I can't watch it. Meh. Ah, well, at least I have a season on DVD to tide me over...oh, and H:LOTS itself isn't mine, just for the record.