Hermitcraft OneShots

Bereaved [angst]

Should I be working on my late projects and school work? Probably. Am I going to to? Nope. Is this angst? I think-? Anyways sorry for the lack of updates, I've been working on requests and generally anything that isn't important.. whoops.. Also slight warning, another infamous rushed ending is at the ending by the way!

Word Count: 1,477
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Sometimes it's the weight of the world that's crushing you.

Sometimes it's the thoughts in your own head.

Sometimes you simply began the day crushed.

But no matter what the cause was, you were still crushed.

And for Etho, today was one of those days. Today was the anniversary of when his world fell apart and shattered into oblivion. Nobody could mend that. And no matter how hard he tried, there were just certain things he couldn't keep himself together for.

Seven years ago today, in a tragic accident where things had gotten a little too far, three very special people had died.

It wasn't his fault, not in any way, but he still blamed himself for it.

He was there when it happened anyway, so he should be dead too.

But he wasn't.

Maybe if he could come to truth with what happened, or at least try to accept it, things wouldn't be this bad.

But he couldn't not blame himself for the death of the other nHo members, and no matter how hard he tried to forget, he couldn't. The screams and shouts of his friends were still freshly imprinted in his head.

The tears streaming down his face had already been there for a long time, multiple streaks covering his cheeks and cracking. Small pools of tears had clotted on the ground. His throat hurt and his heart hurt and he hurt. All his joy had just perished before him. He had watched his soul be crushed before him. He cried even harder, feeling a familiar wave of sadness hug him again.

He barely yelled out a warning as the tree branch fell, hitting the fire and knocking the blowtorch they'd been goofing off with into it.

His sobs echoed even more as his mind slowly turned his thoughts even more, spoiling everything just to make it his fault.

Some people say that when a tragic thing happens, or when you think of it again, you can feel your heart shattering.

But this wasn't the case for Etho, as it had already done so long ago, and never regrouped.

Flames blew up all around them in a way that was too quick to process.

You can remove a thorn and pull a splinter. You can fix a bone and transfer a heart. But you can't mend one. You can fix and wrap injuries, but those are physical. You can't take back actions and traumas.

Bdubs was the first one gone as he had been pinned under the branch.

Things could get better, but not healed. You can think they're better but every little detail, phrase, and action can remind you of it.

Doc went second as he too got caught in the lethal, heated dance of the flames while trying to help Bdubs.

There was a soft knock on the door of the hut he had locked himself in. It slowly creaked open as Ren peeked his head in, spotting Etho.

It was almost like a routine for them.

Every year on the same day when the pain hit its worst Etho would find himself crying in a corner in an old makeshift hideout the nHo had made in their early days.