White-faced, I scrambled for the side, the solid thunk! of cracked bones ringing in my ears.
I grabbed a hold of the railing, shakily peering down. The bile rose in my throat, my head feeling faint. I swallowed hard. What have I done?

19 feet down, Thomas rested awkwardly on the cement floor, his head releasing a stream of blood that ran towards his twisted and bent limbs. A red river trailed from his mouth and nose, creating a stark contrast to his pale eyes. They taunted me. You did this. I couldn't look away; couldn't break our eye contact. The remaining colour in his face leeched away making his blue eyes glow.
A moan escaped my lips. I was going to be sick. There was a burning in my chest as if my core were being ripped out.
I sucked in a shaky breath. I did this!


"Tom?" I stammered. Why was I asking? I knew he wouldn't answer. He was too pale. There was too much blood. I fisted my hair. Gritting my teeth, I struggled to breath. This wasn't my reality. It couldn't be. This can't be happening.

The door below groaned open. My head shot up, eyes wide. The others must have heard the impact.
I skittered away from the edge, horrid truth setting in. I'm a murderer. They wouldn't understand. 

Through the slab, I heard Hank exclaim below me, "I need help in here!"
Hurried footsteps resonated as the others reached the scene. Al swore aloud. Hank was calling out Tom's name. He was trying to help him. It was no use. He was gone.

Panic set in, shaking my limbs. I jammed my eyes shut. I wanted to wake up now. Please let me wake up now! Even with my eye's closed the image burned in my retina's. Tom stared back at me. You killed me.

I. Killed. Him.

I slumped to my knees, sweaty hands pressed to my face. The room was so deafeningly silent, my heavy heartbeat drowning everything out. It pulsed in my ears, throbbed through my fingers.

"Dex!" Hank's husky voice cried out over the thumping in my head. My name echoed off the rafters constantly barraging me. They wouldn't understand. Tom was innocent to them.


"Dex!?" Al called this time. They're going to find me.

I grabbed my gun from its holster. I have to do something. I clutched the gun in my hands, squeezing the life out of it in my tremoring fingers. What am I going to do? The stash had been tampered with. I was supposed to catch him, not kill him. I'm going down for murder now.
I held my trembling breath with anticipation.


"Dexter!" Al called louder. Crap!

I could hear them running below me, coming for the stairs. I had to do something NOW.
I regretted my choice instantly.

I rammed the butt of the pistol into my nose. Bone cracked under the force, bursting blood vessels in my nose. Blood flowed out and down my face, dripping off my chin. I cried out as the pain buckled me over, violently shaking my entire body. I pushed my gun away from me. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Was this pain or guilt?

I shot to my quivering legs and sprinted for the fire escape door. I had to weave the lie. I grabbed the door, flinging it open. Cold air smacked my face, shocking me from the haze I was feeling. I forced an unsteady breath. If hell was cold, it felt like this.

"Dexter!?" Al called faintly behind me as I took a chance on the rusted out fire escape. I willed my legs to keep going as it groaned and clanged under my weight. 

"Hank, out the front!" Al yelled. I hit the ground, stumbling. What was my plan? My brain kept one foot in front of the other.

Run!

I ran onto the pavement of the sidewalk and kept sprinting. What was I doing?

"Dexter!?" Hank yelled behind me. How long would I run for? Had it been 2... or 3 blocks? I slowed to a halt, wracking breaths stuck in my chest finally releasing in puffs of steam. 

Coughing as my own blood went down my throat, I turned to Hank.


"Dex, what happened?" He walked to me, brow furrowed.
I found myself starting to sob. I killed Thomas.
Hank put a hand on my shoulder,


"Dexter?"


"He's dead, isn't he?" I found myself asking even though I knew very well what that answer was.


"Yes." Voight said straight, "What happened up there?"


"I didn't see him. It was too late," my voice shook under the shock. It was the first thing I could think of. From now on all I could do was lie. There was no other option now.


"Who?"


I gagged at the metallic tang invading my mouth, "There was someone else. He blindsided me. Tom was there. He was right there!" The spot I shoved him. I held my hands to my head. "When I got back up, He was gone." My voice cracked as I started crying. I held my hands to my bloodied face. Was this guilt or shame? 

Al and Jimmy ran to our position.

Voight patted my back,
"Call in back up. There is an assailant on foot. He couldn't have gotten far," He instructed Alvin.
"Jimmy, take Eddie and search the warehouse perimeter." Jimmy and Eddie turned and went back the way they came.


I managed to overhear Al call in, "We need immediate back up, as well as medical assistance. We've got two officers down."


He walked over,
"Dexter, take a seat here." I sat on the patchy lawn, gazing as my blood drops fell on the pavement.

The first responder on the other side answered his request, "Back up and Ambulance inbound."

Is this enough to keep forensics off me? It terrified me. I shouldn't be thinking like this. How did everything go to shit so quickly? I was just like Tom. 

"Don't worry Dex, we'll catch the bastard who did this." His certainty frightened me. This isn't going to work. I keeled over and threw up.