Any time he will look up, Buck will avert his gaze. His eyes are focused tiredly on Eddie, watching as he lazily flips through a magazine. The sound bounces around his skull, never there in time, never landing on its target.īuck blinks his heavy eyes and slides down further in the vinyl chair of the hospital waiting room. When he screams, the sound is swallowed by the water.īut still the gunshot resonates, splitting the air with a never-ending crack. When he swims, his arms get stuck in the mud.

When he runs, he’s pulled down by quicksand. It lives there in his mind, stretching through time and the growing space between them. The gunshot reverberates it echoes, ripping through flesh and bone, slicing through waves, cutting through mud.