Greg had always seemed untouchable.

He was the type of guy who could talk a cop out of a ticket or drunk and half conscious,

then somehow get the same cop to drive him home.

So, when his sister called me crying, struggling to get a word out,

I thought something had happened to their mom.

When she finally managed to speak, I had to ask her to repeat herself.

It turned out that the police found Greg's body in his apartment after his boss called in a

wellness check when he didn't show up to work for two days.

The responding officers broke down the door and found him in the living room.

They wouldn't let the family see the body.

From what his sister had heard when she had caught the officers on break discussing the scene,

his limbs were twisted, his spine curved like someone had wrung him out

from both ends, and his eyes were gone. Whoever had done it was sadistic beyond belief.

There was no forced entry, or weirdly enough, signs of a struggle. The case was being ruled as suspicious, but that just meant they

didn't have a clue who was behind it. Despite having a wide net of friends, Greg's funeral was small.

Only a few people made it in person. Jamie hugged me outside the church. Her eyes were red and a makeup

had started to smear, but she still looked the same, sharp, blunt, unapologetic. The others were

there too, Raff and Lex. We all grew up together.

Back then, we used to joke that we were stuck with each other for life, and for the

most part, we were.

Sure, we drifted apart for a few years during college, but we always ended up circling

back.

...