Crooked Man

T W E N T Y N I N E

Stories told me to fear the dark. To fear what's inside the closet, what's under the bed, what kind of monsters come for me at night. But they forgot to tell me what happens in the light.

I wake up to cold air. Wet grass. And Rick next to me.
I must've blacked out.
How?
I don't know.

All I know is that I'm outside and alive with the dead body of Rick. His pale face laying there, lifeless, expressionless.
I breath the cold morning air. The one I thought I'd never breath again. I throw myself on the ground, hugging the grass.

I don't know why "Flora" let me out alive, but I don't want to know. I just want to run away as fast as I can.
I am a horrible person for being able to leave Rick like that, I know that. But my life was on the line in there. And I could've been the dead one here.

I touch Rick's hair before getting up. His cute little nose. I smile. It's weird that we got close enough for me to cry about never seeing him again overnight. He was probably the closest person I had to a family. My only friend in such long time.
I feel the warm tears rolling down my cheeks. I smile. All the things happened, and I didn't cry enough. It's all built up inside me now.
It hurts. I feel numb. Not sad. Numb. And somehow I know, it's worse.
"Goodbye my hero..." I wipe my tears away but more of them flow out. I get up before I cry even more. I walk away without looking at him again. "I'm proud of you..."

And in the end, all I learn is how to be strong.
Alone