On Souls and Justice. ((WIP))

It was supposed to be a candlelight vigil, every flame lit in honor of a boy with no face and a planted gun. Aaron was unimpressed. His parents were crying nonstop, but that had become the norm at home, too. Everyone kept saying how sorry they were, how they knew Chris was a good kid and now he was surely in a better place, and how someday the truth would come out. Maybe it wouldn’t be until Judgment Day, but sooner or later the murderers would pay.

“They had to identify him with dental records,” he told one stranger. “He was in the morgue for a week before they notified my Dad.”

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((TBC))