Get out

My fault

Brett could practically feel the failure weighing him down. Of course just going there didn't work! He was an idiot for going without a plan, and an even bigger idiot for letting Eddy out of his sight.

"Come on, brain. You fucked this up, now you gotta fucking fix it," he said out loud to himself, standing up to start pacing sround the room. His mind was empty with stress and worry, and nothing was working. Eddy was probably clinging onto life with all he had and Brett was just in his stupid ass office doing nothing!

He yelped when he almost tripped over his own slippers that he had left by his desk, and in frustration he picked them up and threw the first into the nearby wall.

"Fuck you!" he shouted into the empty room, and the echo shouted it back at him. This was all his fault, his fault for being alive, his fault for not thinking. "Just use your stupid brain! Fix it!"

He threw the second slipper, this time hitting a painting he had bought in auction for a few thousand dollars back when he set up the office for the second time after tearing it down in a fit of frustration similar to the one he was currently experiencing. The painting fell to the floor, cracking the frame. The sound made him want to puke, reminding him of how Eddy's hand had cracked under Ray's palm. Another one of Brett's stupid suggestions. Why make him struggle to defend himself like that when he wasn't completely safe yet?

The next to be tossed into the wall was a book from the nearby bookshelf. It was soon followed by another, and another while the pile that built grew more and more blurry for Brett as the tears filled his eyes. He had promised to keep Eddy safe, and he had failed. It could possibly be too late already. Eddy could be dead because of him, because his brain wasn't working fast enough.

"Use your brain, idiot! Think! It's the only thing you're even remotely good at," Brett scolded himself, kicking his chair. It rolled across the floor before getting caught on the pile of books and falling over. Brett felt his fingers itch for something more to tear down, just needing to break something. If it wasn't an object, it would be himself. The next he chose was the whole shelf itself, having run out of items to pick from it. "You gotta fix this, cause lord fucking knows nobody else should have to! Fuck you and your carelessness! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, you selfish scumbag! You dare to call yourself his friend!"

His throat felt sore and dry as he fell to his knees, sobbing. There was nothing he wanted more than to drown himself in something, in anything. Maybe in alcohol. Probably in alcohol. The wine cellar down the stairs was full of all kinds of good wine he had collected from all his business partners through the years. If he couldn't get Eddy back, then maybe that would be a good way to go. Alcohol poisoning from the goods he undeservingly had acquired.

It took a second for his brain to rewind what he had just thought. There was something in it, something triggering a lightning fast string of thought that blossomed into an idea, a plan.

Partners. That's it!

Brett quickly stumbled to his feet and stepped over the pile of books and broken wood to get back to his desk. He pulled out a random piece of paper from a drawer and a marker to draw it all out. He would need some help. Two cars, two disguises, three people. Alex, Victor and himself. That's all he needed. He could fix this. He could definitely fix this, as long as it wasn't too late already. He didn't know how he'd hold together if he even entertained the thought that it might be too little too late.