Chapter 5
Greg couldn't sleep, he collapsed from exhaustion and haunted by the memory of Nick's last words, the ones that had driven him to the unthinkable, the irreparable. He was angry with himself, despaired of what he'd done and too appalled to question the memory. If at first he had recoiled and denied the possibility of him committing such an atrocity, now he had accepted it and was overwhelmed by it.
The doctor came to see him and congratulated him on his acceptance of reality, telling him it was a step towards recovery and discharge. He didn't care about leaving the hospital and ending up in a cell, he didn't care about healing, he just knew he couldn't go on living with what he'd done. He could never go back to his life, knowing that Nick wouldn't be there and that it was his fault.
In his waking periods, he contemplated the idea of rejoining the man he loved. He analyzed the tools he could use to take his own life. He soon realized that there would be only two possibilities if he were to realize this idea: slitting his wrists with his teeth or eating his pillow. He didn't think he had the courage to do either. No matter how desperate he was, no matter how much he hated himself, he could only do it if it went fast. He hadn't yet sunk low enough into the pit of distress.
He was interrupted in his macabre plans and in the destruction of what little self-esteem he had left by the entrance of the doctor, who gave him his medication before sitting on the edge of his bed.
''Mr. Sanders, your condition has improved sufficiently in recent days for you to be able to attend your trial. The trial is scheduled for tomorrow. Is there anyone you would like to contact? A lawyer?''
The very idea of trying to prove his innocence or reduce his sentence seemed an insult to Nick's memory and to his family. Showing up at the trial and facing the gaze of her colleagues, Nick's relatives, his own parents seemed unthinkable.
''I don't want a lawyer,'' he replied. "I don't want to defend myself, they can just sentence me to death.''
Greg knew he couldn't escape the trial, or the stares, and this realization made him want to disappear.
''A police officer will come in a few hours to take you to court.''
Greg wasn't listening to her anymore; he didn't want to go to this trial and face up to his actions in front of his and Nick's loved ones. He was ashamed of himself; he still couldn't explain what he'd done, even though the memory of that night was running through his mind. He paid no attention to the doctor who left the room, too lost in his own thoughts.
He was, however, seized with anguish after the doctor returned to give him his treatment and tell him the police had arrived. He didn't understand what she said to him afterwards; only his fear of seeing his loved ones and his despair at being responsible for Nick's death resonated within him at that moment. He regained contact with his surroundings when a policewoman took hold of the handcuffs encircling his right wrist. He then realized that the doctor had left the room and that several officers were waiting outside his room.
Greg began to shake with all his limbs, the idea of having to face Nick's death and his guilt seemed insurmountable. He didn't deserve to live when he'd taken the life of a great man, a man with his heart in his hand, a man loved by all who met him, a man who would be missed by all who knew him. He had taken the life of the man he loved, already missed him terribly, and felt lower than dirt. He didn't deserve to be alive when Nick was no longer.
When his right wrist was untied from the bed, Greg's gaze fell on the service weapon on the agent's belt. There he saw his way out. The young man concentrated; he knew he wouldn't get a second chance. He waited, trembling, tears rolling down his cheeks, for the policewoman to step around the bed and free his left wrist. She tied his wrists together in front of him and asked him to stand up.
Greg struggled to sit up - his muscles were weak as he'd been lying down for days. She waited until he had stabilized before asking him to stand up. The young man lost his balance as soon as his feet touched the ground. He leaned with all his weight on the policewoman and put his hands on her belt. He retrieved the weapon without a care in the world, before dropping to the ground.
On his knees, weeping, but certain of what he was about to do, he placed the barrel of the gun under his chin. Nick's face appeared before him, calling out to him. Greg wasn't afraid of dying right now; he wanted to join his man. He was afraid of failing, of not being able to kill himself on the first try. He wouldn't get a second chance, he knew that.
The policewoman was already trying to dissuade him. Her colleagues had entered the room, and she was talking to him in a calm voice.
Greg removed the safety catch and closed his eyes, ready to join Nick.