The birds fell silent. The trees stopped swaying. The wind ended it's howling. My tears finished streaming.
He was gone forever. My brother. Josh was dead.
I knelt down on the soft soil and lowered the box into the freshly dug hole. My hands trembled on the smooth wood, containing his most prized possession; his pendant. I had argued my voice away trying to persuade my parents to let me keep it as a reminder of him. But they persisted it was buried.
Josh was 12, tall and feeble with sandy blonde hair and sea green eyes. He had been my closest friend, never mind my only brother. When I was in doubt, he would always be there to comfort me. But now he was gone.
9 days earlier
"Josh! Josh?" I called up the stairs to where Josh had disappeared to. No response. My eyebrows knitted and my nose creased in concern. He had gone up the stairs, I had gone outside, I had called Mum, he had not said a word.
"Josh!" I screeched, bolting up the stairs, sweat beading on my forehead.
I swung open the door and my jaw dropped just like my stomach.
Blood was sprayed everywhere, leaving smears down the walls; the light flickered with ripped material or clothes dangling from the lampshade; a trail of the red liquid slithered along the floor and out of the open window, where Josh's lifeless body must have left.
That's when I knew Josh would never return.
