Guilt was a rarity; William saved such an emotion for actually important things. Murder? Less important.

He knew they all knew— knew what he did. He had been arrested for it after all, no conviction of course: there was no evidence, no body, no weapon, no footage. They couldn’t prove it.

William still knew they all knew. The way they looked at him, they all hated him. He supposed it was to be expected- he’d done a truly heinous thing, even if his partner was the only one who vouched for his innocence.

Not only the public, but the victims. God could they leave him alone?

Threats: they’d get him back, he’d get what’s coming to him. Their voices were loud, deafening at night. William couldn’t do anything about it.

Stupid souls of children he thought wouldn’t come after him- after all, they were dead. They couldn’t hurt him, even if they scared the hell out of him.

However, William stayed proud, kept his act of classy business man. The public would forget eventually. They always did.

But the children wouldn’t; they mocked him, chased him, even in his dreams he couldn’t escape them.

William woke up with a start, sweat dropping down his forehead. He groaned, head falling into his hands.

Even in his sand land he had nowhere to run.