𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬

FINAL CHAPTER: WHAT I LEFT FOR THEM

I knocked on the wooden door, waiting for Hazel to let me in, but no answer was given. I slowly twisted the handle and peeked inside, only to find the fox sitting on the ground, looking at pictures. It was a week after the battle. We were all in a bad mood.

"Are you coming out today?" I asked.

The fox looked back, I could see the tiredness and the marks from the tears on Hazel's face, and no answer was given again, just going back to looking at the Polaroid pictures.

I looked back to Heidi and motioned with my head for him to go inside. The wolf sighed and walked inside the house, while I just waited on the outside. He was holding something wrapped in an old newspaper, and I couldn't figure out what it was.

"Hey Haze," he started. "Harch had made this for your birthday. He said it was a real pain to find it," and then gave the package to Hazel.

Hazel slowly ripped the package open, and I could see some circles in a black background, and some weird words were written on it: "Twenty One Pilots, Blurryface". That thing seemed to disrupt something on Hazel because the crying started again. Heidi could only comfort, given that he knew how it was to lose a loved one. I knew as well, but I didn't spend thirty years with him, so it wasn't the same thing.

I just walked away on the scene, leaving the two friends on their own. I took my way to the cemetery, crushing the dry leaves of autumn, wishing for a certain someone to be with me. Grief was fucked up.

When I entered the last place I wanted to be, I saw the first dozens of graves that appeared on that place, but the only one that interested me was right in the middle:

"Mason Phillip Sauer"

I only got to know that his middle name was Phillip when his mom engraved it on the stone. His grave was made of marble and red granite, showing his bravery in infecting himself to save the others. Harch's tombstone was right next to him, made of Quartz, a nice crystal that showed how even the hardest souls could shine in their own way.

I didn't talk to Mason. I didn't pray to him. I didn't do anything. I just stood there, staring at his grave and blaming the world for taking everything I've ever loved. Both my boyfriends, my sister, my mom, everything. From that day on, I never believed in luck again, because Mason was right. We were getting too lucky, and that luck stroke us right back where we began.

Thank you. His last words reverberated in my head.

Thank me? For what? Letting you die just like I let everyone else die? Thanking me for being his family for what, three months?

I killed him. If I had never met him, none of this would've happened. If I had never been born, Nicole wouldn't be dead, and Willow certainly wouldn't have become a raider. If I hadn't met Harch, he would still be in Ohio, safe and sound. It was like I was the bringer of death to everyone I met.

"He wouldn't have wanted you to blame yourself," said a familiar voice behind me.

I turned around to see Senior Maya. She was wearing a big coat and seemed pretty much over it, but I could sense she was still trembling inside. Not from the cold, but from the rage.

She wanted to annihilate every last roach in the world, and we had to keep her from doing so, or else she'd end up killing herself like the other three Sauers that did the exact same.

"The first thing he said to me after Pandora's broadcast was 'Don't let the blame himself', so I'm not gonna," she said. "He did everything to save you because he wanted to. Mason never sacrificed himself for anyone besides the girl, and that means something,"

"He really fought the Butcher?" I asked, after a few seconds of silence.

"How do you think we got infected meat so strong to drag hundreds of Gluttons?" she asked. "Yeah, he did. After he said that to me, he left our base and went straight to his car. We had to hurry to catch him, but as soon as we reached Long Island, the primal point, we saw that that was a challenge much bigger than he could handle. The entire island was covered in crimson. It had its own mist, like a Nest, but out in the open. None of us could breathe in there, and as soon as Mason headed inside we started searching for gas masks to help him,"