Anderperry - Somewhere only we know.

Going back.

There was nothing I could do anymore. There was only one thing I could think.

Neil is dead.
Neil is dead.
Neil is dead.

It was crushing and it had only been minutes. He'd still be warm. He'd still be his warm old self. If I just ignored his head I could spend another night with him like I'd done for the past few months sharing a room with him. Just one more night. But... I promised him I wouldn't go back. I wasn't sure that I wanted to, but I... I couldn't keep myself away. I slowly stood up, admiring my surroundings. I looked at the snow, how it shone blindingly bright in the moonlight, the holes in the snow from my tears making it look beautifully dappled in that little area. I stood and watched as the snowflakes started falling again, smiling a little bit.

"It's beautiful." I whispered, hearing my nonchalant voice resonate in the darkness. I felt too drained to run, but I really wanted to run away. Instead I just made quietly back towards the cave, each of my footsteps crunching into a fresh layer of snow that the sky had lain whilst I'd been sat crying. I wandered what seemed aimlessly, my mind blank and my expression lost and empty.

Once these footsteps eventually drew close to the mouth of the cave, I grew cautious. I slowed, but didn't stop moving towards the cave which we knew so well, the first thing I noticed being a limp pair of legs. I peeked a little further around the inside wall of the cave, slowly showing myself more of the figure of my best friend. I saw his hands. One empty, the other loosely shadowing the revolver. I didn't dare look any further up his still body yet, but I turned myself around and shuffled backwards so I didn't have to. I took the gun from his hand, and tidied the spilled bullet box that he'd dropped beside him, gathering them all up and placing them beside me as I sat on the ground next to Neil. I faced the snow, looking out into the forest, my hand scooping up his. His fingers were slightly cold, and completely floppy and limp against mine. I spoke to him to ease the agony of loneliness

"You always did used to have cold hands. Cold hands, warm heart."

His heart was always warm. His smile was warmer. His eyes were warmest. They were what really showed all his happiness and he didn't even need to crack the tiniest of sniggers to show that when his eyes showed so much emotion. Especially when he was passionate about something. Something like the play, that he was in just hours ago... He seemed so full of life and now he was just... dead. Neil was dead,  and I couldn't bare it.  I didn't want to look at him, but I sure as hell didn't want the last memory I had of him to be saying goodbye to him. I had to see him again.

I turned my head, slowly, slowly... It was then that the stench of flesh hit me hard, making me shudder. I didn't see anything but a sting of red in the corner of my eye. I didn't want to. All I could imagine was the entirety of his head and face being blown off, but when I turned to look, it was surprisingly intact. Obviously there was a repulsive and painfully bright red mess beside his head, which burnt into the snow, making it look even worse. I quickly buried the mix of blood and brain with more of the snow and some of the dead leaves that carpeted the floor of the cave, almost making him a pillow. All the while I was whimpering and trying not to fall into a cry again. Once I'd done, it just looked like he was asleep, and after a while I'd convinced myself he was. I just lay on the ground beside him and held his hand, rocking myself to self-soothe in a way.

I soon grew exhausted and heartbroken, and rolled the body of my dead friend into the position he always slept - on his right side, curled up. I practically made him a leafy hat, since having him rolled over like that exposed the bloody wound where the bullet first tore through and if I looked at it any more than I had to, I could've swore I'd be scarred.

I wasn't really sure what to do after that.
I'd normally be fast asleep.
Or I'd be awake, aching with fatigue and longing for something, something I could never quite place my finger on. Now, it was this evening that made me realise what I was longing for all along, and what the ache I felt really was - it was for Neil. I cared for him, and I wanted him to be the one holding me through the sad, lonely and sleepless nights.

I thought to myself, that's what I felt now. That's probably what he felt, or definitely what he would've felt if he was still alive. So I didn't hesitate, and I curled up against him, coiled so tight that my head was pressed to his stomach. All I could do was imagine his chest rising and falling with breath, and imagine that the pounding heartbeat I could hear pulsing through my own brain, was in fact his.

I must've lay there for hours against the body which was now an empty shell of what it once was, having turned completely cold and almost inhuman feeling. I lay there until it felt like it was unrecognisable to me, and when this corpse no longer seemed to resemble Neil, my best friend, I lost it. It finally hit me that he wasn't here anymore, and that he wasn't coming back. He wouldn't wake up.

Tears fell from my eyes in a torrent, and my cries rung from my lungs as if I was sounding a knell and announcing to the world that Neil was gone. I cried until my eyes were raw, my throat stung and until my cheeks felt blistered from scrubbing the tears up with the rough sleeve of my coat.

In short, I cried until my gaze fell upon the revolver and the packet of bullets. I cried until my gaze fell upon the exit door.