He lays there like someone just hit him with a car. He lies there because someone didn't watch him... didn't pay any attention to him when they should have. He lies there because he alerted me... saved me... and I did nothing to return the favor.
Standing nearby, I cannot help but stare into the face that I've looked into for several years, a face I have laughed with and yelled to for aide, a mouth that has asked me for help more than once and joked or said something cynical a dozen times over. Dark eyes that are now closed, that will never see anything again...a facade I have made still.
She watches me intently, Calliegh doesn't want to look in his direction. It will make her loser her cool, the only thing she is gripping onto that will keep her from crying. I know her. I feel the same way. I push a couple of guns into her hands, my mouth moving at seventy miles an hour, telling her what they are... and at the same time, my fingers catch on Speed's gun. I don't want to give it up. This feeling inside of me tells me that there is something I've missed, something that doesn't make any sense...he should have been able to protect himself; had he looked down at his sidearm? I mention this to her, hardly aware of what I'm saying. She leaves in a hurry.
Stetler is here. Our conversation is luke-warm to say the least. I don't remember much of it. Not that important. I feel a blossom of anger grow in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Now it is taking over me, the awesome sensation of death has occurred deep inside my head and with a pang in my heart. I've just killed my partner by not paying attention... I let things get too out of hand... I took my eyes off of him... you don't do that...
I never did that.
I never used to.
And now I've abandoned his soul, his still young life. It might have had great potential... It had a chance for romance, a chance for a family... a chance that's only an echo now.
I stalk from the ruins, no longer in control of myself, only my rage, the inferno that takes me over only when I'm not fully conscious. And I'm not. Half of me is wrapped up inside of myself, beating against a wall, trying to break the other half down. Because of who I am, I can't allow that to happen. Because I still have a little boy out there that cannot be let down, I can't allow myself to grieve, even for someone who was like a son to me. I've lost a son. I've lost a dear friend.
My muscles shake as I shove the suspect into the car. People can watch me. Yelina can watch me... the reporters with their meaningless cameras and microphones could say all they liked. I am a torn man.
TBC...