Welcome to Heaven (w2h)

Part Five

Silence. Deafening silence. This is almost like the same silence that I heard all those years ago. What a sad silence to have your death wish on. Jonathan only stared at me, his tired eyes widened then relaxed again. He tries to hold in his laughter, which caused me to glare at him for even thinking about laughing at such a serious response even if it sounds ridiculous. I growl lowly, causing him to immediately stay quiet and actually listen. I admire him for that. As I slowly and awkwardly try to explain my reasoning upon why I said that, Jonathan started to ask questions I truly couldn't answer since I didn't know myself. "Why me?" and "how did you find me?" were the most common questions that repeated multiple times. I turn my attention to the collie that still laid next to Jonathan, it's fluffy tail kept wagging like an excited pup. I ask what the dog's name is and the response I get astonishes me.
Napoleon.
This dog was named after me, Jonathan said in explanation upon the name. Said it was named after the boy that died saving the collie as a pup. I fall silent, still stunned by this. I feel my hands start to shake and I start taking short breaths again.

"Why do you think the boy saved Napoleon?"

Jonathan pondered, gently raking his fingers through Napoleon's fur and earning a light hearted bark out of it. I answered with a "I don't know, why do you think he did?" so I wouldn't embarrass and make a fool out of myself. He responded with that it was most likely something out of guilt or just plain protectiveness, making me swallow my heart down my throat and felt the depthness in the pit of my stomach. My small, pastel blue tinted wings wanted to break free from my skin, to show off what I was, but I disagreed. Jonathan had to believe me before I did anything rash. He decided that the new silence that deafened our voices stood for too long and decided to ask questions again.

"So, what's your name, kid?"

Kid. The nickname that I absolutely dreaded since I was a child, just the thought of the word always made my blood start to boil in my own skin. But this was different, it felt right to be called a kid even though I should be older than Jonathan if I were still alive. He would be 17 and I would be 19, but I'm stuck at the age I died at which is the dreaded name of 15. After some more silence, I respond to his question with a stern yet hesitant voice.

"... Sock. Sock Sowachoski. Infamously known as Napoleon Maxwell Sowachoski."