time and location : late afternoon at the glen ellen local bar
triggers : blood, gore, death, police, vomit, alcohol
he's been asked to recount the events of this morning more times than he can stomach . first, at the crime scene, but memories of that initial questioning are dim . akiel, drained white like a ghost and covered in a mix of his own sick and his soon to be sister's blood did not have the wherewithal to do much besides call 911 and cradle her head in his lap until they arrived . he's then questioned again, once the press arrive . vultures picking at her bones while the blood is fresh . even if he could find it in himself to speak, he refuses to speak to them . after that, he's escorted to the station . the police assure him that they just have a handful of questions, and he'll be out of there in no time . why were you out so early in the morning ? he was on a run, he responded honestly . why were you covered in abigail's blood ? when he saw her, he ran to her, he didn't think . he called 911, and tried to stop the bleeding, even if it was too late . even if she was already dead by the time he found her . and then he just held her . there are more questions, and then he's let go, but told not to go far . as if he might try to run .
before he can go home, before he can face the family, face even more questions, he finds himself at the local bar, starring down the barrel of a gun . he hasn't touched the beer he ordered . the untouched amber liquid stares back at him, and he loses himself in it, trying not to think of abigail's tortured face . her limp, lifeless body . trying not to think of the blood that still stains his arms and legs and hands, no matter how hard he scrubs .