“At four o’clock this morning, seventeen year old Jason Williams was murdered outside of his mother’s home in Washington Heights. He was shot five times in the chest and once in the face.”
“Neighborhood witnesses reported hearing an argument break out between multiple young men out on the street early in the morning. Shortly after, they heard approximately sixteen gunshots ring out and the sound of screaming. By the time anyone could reach Williams, he had already passed away. None of the witnesses could identify the murderers as they fled the scene, but the characteristics defined as of now are two tall men wearing dark hoodies, jeans and white sneakers. If you have any information, please call 9-11 and inform your nearest police station.”
Sean sits on the step, his head in his hands. He tries to control himself, but the sobs continue to erupt out and shake his frame like the rumblings of an earthquake. He has not cried in years.
The room suddenly floods with light, and creaking is heard from the top of the stairs. Sean fumbles with his sweatshirt and scrambles to wipe his streaming tears. No one will see him cry, not ever.
“Sean! You good man?” Mason begins to descend into the basement, followed by his older brother John.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. What the hell are we gonna do?” Sean asks, standing to face them.
“You just lay low. They won’t be able to identify you, not with no cameras. Besides, you’ve already done this kinda thing before. What’s different about this time?” Mason laughs.
Sean nods, and slowly eases back down onto the step. In truth, this time is very different. Sean is accustomed to petty crime, not murder. Keeping this tough, bad boy mask on is difficult for him. It is like pretending to be desensitized to the feeling of being stabbed when you’ve only experienced vaccine shots.
^ (I didn't have time to write the other perspective)
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