Greg's POV
It's been six weeks since that horrible night. Six weeks of nightmares. Six weeks of that scene haunting my dreams. Lurking in the back of my mind during every waking moment. Six weeks of reliving the seconds that I watched as Jake's life blood poured out on the ground as I tried vainly to staunch the flow.
Six weeks of wondering why the shooter or his accomplice didn't put a bullet in me as well. Wondering why it was Jake that died and I was allowed to lived. It tears me apart.
I've lost weight. I feel exhausted. I crave sleep, but the moment my eyes close that night plays across the back of my eyelids, jolting me awake. f**k! I can't go on like this.
Jose called me into his office one morning a week ago, sat me down in a chair and told me point blank that I can't go on
