Go On

I accepted the fact already that I was going to die.1

Everyone was ‘going to die' sooner or later, in the end. My time, however, was coming up much more quickly than most people.2

I had already understood that, even welcomed it, though I still had yet to comprehend the fact that I had just murdered my best friend.3

I lay on the white, glistening snow, dying. I am ready for whatever Supreme Being is up there to take my worthless, dishonorable soul, though I fear that said Being will not bring my soul ‘up there.' I am waiting patiently for death to take me. I do not want to die quickly; I do not deserve that after what I had just done to him. 4

I cannot feel past my lower legs arms. The blood circulation in my ears has already been stopped, of that I am sure. My fingers and toes are already beyond frost-bitten.5

You don't have to do this, a part of my mind was screaming. You don't have to be out here, freezing to death, killing yourself. 6

But, as my body slowly started to succumb to hypothermia, I realized at the same time that I did.7

I didn't have to be out here, but I deserved it. 8

I deserved death for my actions.9

Because my best friend, the man who meant more to me than any other human being, myself included, is dead. The man who I loved, who I revered most, who never really truly loved me in return or at least never made it apparent to me was dead, killed by me. Executed, in the worst style.10

'I hate you.' 11

That is why I am executing myself, freezing to death.12

As I lay here and slowly die, my mind replays the events that led up to this point. It perplexes me to no extent that it was no less than twenty-four hours ago that we were laughing, joking, talking in such ways that only the best of friends can. 13

As I thought of this, my mind was asking me questions, accusing me. How did it come to this? How could I ever turn on him? He was my only anchor in my life, the only thing I had left. I tried delving into the depths of my mind, searching for an explanation and any answers. But I found I had none to justify my inexcusable sin.14

I lay here, my body no longer feeling cold and wet, but now a warm and pleasant feeling. It feels comforting to know that the end is coming closer.15

My breathing has slowed down dramatically. I look to my side, only turning with my eyes, praying and hoping to see the familiar dark brown leather jacket through the hazy blizzard. But I see nothing, only white, with the blurry black background of trees.16

My eyes are tired; dry. Sighing, I close them, the world going dark. Physically, I cannot feel anything anymore. I cannot feel the cold on my skin, or the wetness of melted snow in my boots. I cannot taste the bitterness of guilt, nor the blood of my wounds. I cannot see the white, blank world of hatred anymore, merely a comforting darkness. I cannot smell the pine trees of the forest, or the coppery-iron smell of blood.17

I can only hear the whipping winds of the harsh cold blizzard.18

'I hate you.' 19

I reflect on my past, on my meeting with him. Of how I should have never made friends with him, of how I should have never gotten this close. I knew the dangers that came with just being around him; he did, too. I would have never fallen in love if I hadn't met him; and he would still be alive.20

I as I close my eyes the only thing I can see is the imprint of the sunlight, a brilliant bluish-purple. But, the shape is starting to change, dividing into two, each turning into two crescent moons kissing, a circle in the centre.21

Two brilliant blue eyes.22

Two familiar brilliant blue eyes staring at me with betrayal, hurt, and sadness. Staring at me and saying nothing as I shouted at him.23

'I saw you.' 24

I should have never spoken those words to him. Three little words. How much damage they had done. I had no idea they would have affected them like this.25

All of it starting with a stupid fight.26

'I never want to see you again.' 27

A fight about feelings, truthfully.28

Stupid feelings. I realize now that feelings get in the way. As I lay here, emotionless, I am most happy, not feeling anything. I know, this statement is self-contradicting, but true nonetheless.29

---30

The crunch of snow under feet. It was lightly coming down. I felt small little flakes landing softly on my forehead. 31

The sound of my snowball hitting his cool leather jacket. His surprise, and the eye-rolling. 32

"You know if you were anyone else I'd *so* wail on you." The teenager-like attitude. I know that deep down he was really someone amazing, not the façade he pretended to be. 33

I don't say anything; I am still wondering whether or not I should bring it up. I had no right to butt into his life like this, yet I feel it is time I stop denying myself of taking the next step with him. After all, I know he would never be the one to initiate anything. 34

He senses my unusual aloofness, turning to look at me. I don't dare let myself meet his gaze, merely watching him out of my peripheral vision. 35

He will not pursue it, I know. 36

A short silence befalls us. Nothing is heard except for the small breeze blowing the light layer of snow, and the crunch of the slush under our feet. It is a small frost, said the meteorologist, nothing more. 37

I decide to bring it up to him, perhaps try to play dumb until he lets his secret slip. I want to know the truth. 38

"So," I try to sound casual. "Anything...new happen this week?" 39

"Like what?" he asks me, turning toward me. I hear the bitterness in my own voice. 40

"I dunno...meet any new people, go out on a date, get a new job..." 41

"Why do you want to know?" he asks me, putting his bare hands in his jacket pockets. 42

"Well...I dunno...you just...seem different is all," I stammer. "Like you did when you started going with that one girl-" 43

"Well, I'm not." He says this coldly, and disbelieving at the same time. It makes me falter in my tracks for a moment, before I resume my pace. 44

---45

I realize then that that was the whole start of the fight. I don't know why. Often we told each other we loved the other. As friends. Somehow, to him, this was different. As hard as I try, I can't understand a logical explanation for his reaction. Why did he take it so badly? Perhaps he was looking for a fight. Maybe he wanted to die.46

Or, maybe he wanted me to die.47

Death.48

Please come quickly. Please come so I can maybe see him, maybe he'll be on the other side and perhaps forgive me, take me to be with him for eternity. A slow smile spreads across my face as I take pleasure in that thought.49

---50

Another awkward pause falls over the two of us. I can see my own breath, and start to shiver. The temperature is dropping. 51

"Why did you say that?" he asks, after much time has passed. I wonder if the question is meant for me, or a thought spoken out loud. 52

Many times it is the latter, a question from his thoughts, though most times I am able to decipher to what it is he is referring. 53

"What?" I inquire, curious as to what was bothering him so much. He wouldn't look at me. 54

"You really think I have a girlfriend or something?" he still won't look at me, even as he had spoken these words, quietly, and as gently as the breeze. 55

I turn to him, seeing his gaze directed toward his black shoes, the cold staining his cheeks a soft pink. 56

I immediately feel guilty for bringing it up. 57

I don't reply back, hoping that the question would fade away, replaced by another thought that his mind produced.58

--- 59

The angels are calling me now. I hear the sound of wolves from far away. I silently pray that I die before they find me and have their way with me.60

My eyes are burning behind the lids, and slowly, with all my strength, I reopen them. The world is so bright, so white. I wonder if I have entered purgatory, before my eyes catch the red spot. The blood.61

---62

"That wasn't a rhetorical question," he says to me, rough and yet vulnerable. 63

"Yes," I reply, after a short silence. 64

"Well, then, I don't. Besides, even if I did, its not your business to know unless I tell you." He says this nonchalantly. I am silently cursing him for making things so awkward now. 65

I am too stupid to realize that this can only end badly. 66

"It just seems you do, is all," I say to him. I look at the profile of his face again. He looks agitated, irritated and unhappy of my response. 67

-the laughter of a girl. The laughter of him. Seeing him placing his hand on hers- 68

"Well, you shouldn't assume things," he says, kicking the small lump of snow. 69

"I'm sorry, I just...And what's that supposed to mean? I thought you would tell me these things." What was he getting at? I wonder. He seems as if he has had a bad day. He wouldn't tell me what was bothering him when I had asked him earlier. 70

"I don't have to. It's none of your business." he snaps, suddenly. "What are we doing, now? Twenty questions?" 71

"No," I stammer, a little irritated. Whatever bad day he has had, why take it out on me? "It's just..." 72

-placing his hand on hers, seeing her smiling, her laughing at his touch- 73

"I saw you." I say to him, finally. 74

I realize now that that was the whole reason for the turn of events. I shouldn't've snapped on him. I should never have called him stupid. I should have just left it all alone.75

But we were crossing into unknown territory, then, weren't we?76

He stops in his tracks and stares at me, dumbstruck. I feel guilty immediately. 77

"I-I'm sorry," I stutter. "I went out to the café. I saw you and then I saw her and..." 78

His eyes are uncaring, cold, He reverts back to his stoic, terse self, a defense mechanism I have grown to recognized. Used on everyone but me. "It's none of your business." 79

"It isn't!" I agree. "But I didn't think you'd react *this* badly." 80

"You do this all the time, you know," he starts. "You just...interfere with other people's lives. You had no right to follow me, or whatever you did. My relationships are *my* relationships." 81

I knew I shouldn't have pursued it, then. He wasn't usually one for saying what he felt; in fact, he was usually the opposite, changing the subject whenever something that had to do with confronting feelings would arise, like talking about his past, or something that had just happened. 82

But still...83

I want to end this conversation; I do not want to fight. I put my gloved hand on his leather jacket, touching his shoulder comfortingly. 84

"Please," I say. "Let's just...calm down, okay?" 85

He flinches from my touch, pulling away as if I am some diseased person. "Don't patronize me!" he yells at me. "You do that all the time to me. Treat me like I'm...seven or something!" 86

Anger gets the best of me at this comment. "Well, maybe if you didn't *act* like you were seven-" 87

"Oh-hoh, there we go. Miss Prim and Proper thinks I'm acting like a kid. Well, you know something? You're not exactly the most mature person yourself." 88

"At least I can pass all my classes!" I shout back at him. 89

I regretted the words as soon as I had said them. Last year he failed his tests, staying behind. He tried so hard, studying every night with me (though no one knew, they only thought he didn't care) and yet still receiving poor grades.90


I should have never said that. I knew how hard he tried, how much he wanted to get good grades, go to a decent college, make something of himself. How his dream had been shattered.91

---92

I look back, now, thinking those people--professors, teachers and the like--stupid. They only let you get in based on grades. Who cares if that person tried harder than those who got straight A's? The result only matters.93

Of course, I also realize that that is the same way life is: nothing really matters. In the end we all die.94

---95

His eyes narrow, his face masking. 96

"I'm sorry-" I start, but he is too angry to hear or even care about my apology. 97

"You know what? Forget it!" he turns from me. "I won't even *start* with all the things you've done." 98

Ooh, pointing the finger. Another defense mechanism. 99

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask. 100

"You're bossy, arrogant, self-absorbed. Obsessive." At this his face curls into a sneer, bringing up a bad part of my past. "You are psychotic. Really. I hope you murder someone so they can lock you up for life. You have so many things wrong with you I won't even begin...What about...yeah, what about a certain guy you so-called ‘fell in love with' last year? The one you were so infatuated with? Did he like you back? No. Not even after all the phone calls, after all the e-mails, the conversations. You. Were. Stalking. Him!" 101

I feel a warm wetness slide down my cheek. A tear. It was something I wasn't proud of. Friends at first, and then...when I realized I was trying too hard I left him alone. I was afraid of what I had become. But...it was all a part of being a teen. 102

"I..." I start, my voice cracking. But then my face hardens. If he wants to be cold, then I will be, too. 103

"I hate you." 104

The coldness and harshness of my voice surprises the both of us. We stand there, glaring at each other, the winds growing stronger, now whipping my hair against my face. 105

He stands there, then returns the favor. "I hate you, too." He says this and I know that somewhere deep down it isn't true. "I'm leaving." 106

"I hope you go, then," I say, bitterly. "I never want to see you again." 107

Again, I am surprised at my own bitterness. 108

---109

I don't why I would have ever said that. Had something possessed me to do this? Possessed. Yes. I do believe this. At least this is a theory worth pursuing. Perhaps those Supreme Beings possessed us and wanted this to happen, planned it all like a little game. Wanted to see my will being broken down as I watched the man I loved die, taking to the grave the thought of his best friend betraying him, hating him.110

I reflect on this, realizing that perhaps the reason I had been so angry with him was because he didn't know. He didn't know the true purpose of my asking. Didn't know I asked this because I was jealous. Because I cared more for him than he ever would for me.111

And that girl...I can see her now. Beautiful, really...I have seen her before. I just can't place it. She looked so familiar.112

-laughing with him at the cafe- 113

I thought that I was the only one for him. The little touches we shared, the secrets, the way he acted around me. Telling me things he told no one else, letting his defenses down for me.114

---115

He turns and walks away, toward the forest. The snow is growing heavier now, and I am left just standing there, wondering whether or not I should go after him. 116

I think about the conversation, realizing it is my fault this whole time. I should have been a better friend, not a hurtful one. 117

I watch as the leather jacket disappears, covered by the trees. 118

I head for the top of the large hill, where we were going to see the sun setting. Our tradition. 119

I will go there to think. 120

I continue to walk, past the forest, still looking out of the corner of my eye to see if the leather jacket will reappear. Seconds go by. Minutes. I continue on. 121

It is only then that I hear the scream. 122

---123

Please, hurry! I silently begged the Supreme Beings to take me. Take me out of this already-dead body and into the next life, into Heaven, Purgatory, Hell, even the feared nothingness. Anything to just quicken the process.124

I close my eyes again, my eyes dry and cold. I feel the ice on my eyelashes weighing the lids down. I begin to pray, even though I am not sure anymore to whom or what it is I am praying to. Or even if there is anything beyond death. 125

I just want whoever it is to take me, and take me now.126

--- 127

I rush toward the scream, hoping that it is not what I think it is. Perhaps he is just so frustrated and... 128

I cannot find him. 129

I stop, catching my breath. The snow has now intensified to a blizzard. I pull my hood up to cover my face, but remember that I do not have one. It was only supposed to be a light frost. Nothing more. 130

I call out his name to see if he will answer. None. 131

I scream until my voice grows hoarse. 132

And then I see it. 133

A thick pool of rich, red blood. Fresh. 134

Lions and tigers and bears. 135

Oh, crap.136

Hungry bears. 137

I stop, kneeling toward the blood, but cannot feel anything anymore. My heart has stopped. It is the blood of my best friend, the only person who ever understood me. And I have led him to his death. 138

Next I find the torn sleeve of the jacket. 139

Small, but enough to recognize. 140

I scream for him again, not caring if I rip out my own throat as I do this. I hear something, a call, an answer. I don't know if it is human or animal, but I run toward it anyway. 141

And trip. 142

I fall, my face falling in the thick snow, my body molding the snow as if a grave just for me. I start to get up, but feel a sharp pain in my stomach. 143

A white hot feeling. 144

I look down to see the source of the searing warmth, finding a broken stick lodged in my stomach, blood already pooling around my jacket. It went under the jacket, and straight in when I fell. 145

Shocked, I pull it out of me, painful and spraying blood. I am getting dizzy. 146

I hear another cry again, this time, I can tell. It is him. 147

He is dying and there is nothing I can do to help. 148

I try to shout back to him, but feel too dizzy, and am losing consciousness. 149

I hear him shout one last time before everything goes black. 150

--151

It has been silent now for quite some time. I am grateful, because I do not think I would have been able to endure much more screaming. It pains me, and still haunts me. I hope that he is being taken care of up there.152

Now he can go to whatever college he wants. He will be happy.153

I can't even feel the river of blood pouring over my hands anymore. I can't even see it, but if I open my eyes I know I will look upon the deep red snow.154

The wound is in my abdomen, under my heart and just below the rib cage. The blood my heart beats is now for the snow. No longer for me.155

--- 156

I wake up, disoriented. A few seconds later and I realize that this is not a dream. 157

I stare at the open wound for a second, bewildered. I did not know I had so much blood in my body. I try to get up, but find that I can't. 158

I am such a wimp. 159

I begin to silently cry, something that I rarely do. I rarely break down. But here I was, perhaps going to die. And my best friend was dead too. Of that I was sure. 160

And I killed him. 161

I lay there for what felt like an hour, finally accepting the fact that I was going to die. What I was worried about, however, was the reaction of my family. 162

I thought about the officers finding my body first, the large, gaping wound in my body as I bled to death, then the body of my friend, torn to shreds and perhaps eaten alive by wild animals. 163

I thought about my mother crying, my sister bombing out in school. Perhaps. And mostly about his parents. His mom. 164

Because I had already accepted the fact that I was going to die. Everyone was ‘going to die' eventually... 165

---166

And here I am, now. I feel that my time is coming up shortly. I am embracing death right now, welcoming it with open arms.167

I feel my mind slowly slipping away.168

I feel...light. Being lifted. Floating away as my soul is now free...and the crunch of snow.169

I slowly open my eyes for the third time, wondering what is going on.170

And then I see it. The dark brown. The scent of leather. The sight of a rip in the sleeve.171

I turn my head, or try to. He senses I am awake and he strokes my hair.172

"You scared me, there," he says, his eyes brimming with tears.173

"Don't cry," I say, and hear my voice is slurred.174

"Stay with me," he pleads, his voice cracking as he caresses my skin. His fingers feel so warm against my cold skin.175

"Always," I say. He looks like an angel... "You...you were shouting...?"176

"I was calling for you," he replies, half-smiling. "I'm sorry-"177

"It's not you're fault," I tell him. Voice is at a whisper. "It's mine. I should have never brought her up."178

Something warm is pressed on my lips, silencing me. A finger?179

"I shouldn't have reacted like that. She just...she's my cousin. It wasn't a date. We were just catching up while she was in town and....stay with me!" he said this last part roughly, shaking me out of my dream state.180

"She was pretty," I murmur.181

"Not like you," he whispers, his warm tears falling hot on my face.182

"I love you," I hear him say. I smile.183

"I knew it!" I slur. Of course he did. "I love you."184

He presses his lips to mine, warmth touching ice. 185

And in that second everything goes forever black.