Guilted: Wars Against The Past (Editing)

The blare of sirens, a familiar lullaby for Abed, washed over him, a bizarre calm settling in his chest. The city night, thick with shadows and the hum of distant chaos, felt like a second skin. Streetlights blurred into streaks of red and blue, painting the scene before him in unsettling hues. He sat, legs casually crossed, a half-finished Coca-Cola in hand, his signature smirk playing on his lips.

“Dude, it’s a freaking crime scene. Not the movies. I mean, at least have some respect!” Kalim’s voice, laced with exasperation, cut through the night. Abed merely shrugged, his deep voice a low growl. “Yes, I’m inspecting.” He knew the routine, the hollow protests, the underlying fear. He knew it all too well.

His gaze drifted, catching a glimpse of a familiar figure—a girl, shivering under a paramedic’s blanket, her face a mask of shock. The neighbor, perhaps? The same university. He looked away, but it was too late. She was storming towards him, a fury in her eyes that mirrored the chaos in his own soul. “What is wrong with you? Do you think it’s funny what happened here?!” Her voice was raw, accusing. Abed yawned, deliberately. “Um, that depends! So, do you see me laughing?”