The Fall

Greg felt like he was in the void. In between memories hanging on, unsure which side to grab, unsure whether to pull himself up or whether he should just fall.

He fell.

Deep, deep into nothingness. Maybe it was a distraction. The only way to cope with what he had done. He had killed Alice Moorfield.

Victor had made him kill so many others. And Greg was angry, so he did it. He wanted to be tough, he wanted to be hard. Because his weakness, his obsession with cuckoldry and cheating made him lose the one thing that really mattered.

Nadia.

Even still, the angels that cared for him in the void called him a cuck. Not good enough for any woman. Certainly not Nadia.

He was meant to be stepped on, smeared over the pavement like a bug.

He would look up as one of the angels he was familiar with left the room. She looked at him, and he met her eyes, saying, “I’m sorry.”

She would smile, like it didn’t mean anything, like it was all inevitable anyway, like this was where he was going all along.