I Amsterdam (Completed)

Chapter 8.3 - Brandon

That night I dreamt a memory.

I was at a carnival with the boys. It was night, and the area was lit up by festival lights the colors of the rainbow. Joy and screams of laughter captured the environment, and clowns bounced to and fro.

As I made my way through the game booths, my shoulders brushed past others, but we were in no hurry to get anywhere. We had the whole night to do whatever we wanted - and when I say that I mean whatever we wanted.

We found an isolated place - a deep alley between two game booths. Some of us leaned casually against the gray, stone wall that ended the alley, while the rest either stood or sat down on the almost dead grass that crackled under our weight. I leaned against the wall, my arms crossed. There was nothing to do. However, we each carried a pack of cigarettes everywhere with us just for this type of occasion.

Whenever there was nothing to do, we smoked.

I lit my cigarette along with the boys, the lighter clicking three times before the fire caught. I then inhaled a deep breath in, staring down the alley to where the majority of the people were. They passed by with their hands tucked into their childrens' without a glance at us, maybe because they just couldn't see us in the dark, or because they just didn't want to see us. Either way, we were the demons lurking in the shadows.

Stefan stuffed his hand deep into his pocket and took out a wrinkled plastic bag, powdered on the inside with a white drug. I didn't recognize it because Stefan uses many. He sat on the ground as he eagerly wriggled the bag open, and Christiaan and Isaak joined him on the floor.

"Wanna try?" Stefan asked Rye and me.

"Nah, man. My parents are watching me close since last time I came home high as hell," Rye said, waving his hands in refusal.

"Brandon?" Stefan asked insouciantly. He didn't even look up at me, for he was busy dumping the drug out onto his hand.

"No, I'm good," I replied.

Isaak looked at me as he waited for his share. "Bruh, you never use."

I snickered it off. "I'll find the right time." I drew in another smoke, and blew a ring, a trick I've been practicing for weeks.

And then suddenly the memory faded with the sound of a gunshot. In the chaos outside the alley, people screamed and ran blindly in all directions, mixing with the sound of a rifle spraying the cold midnight sky with a rain of bullets. I stood straight up, rigid and parallel to the wall beside me, and turned to the boys. "What is that?"

Isaak answered. "Let's get out of here."

Granting ourselves no leniency, we quickly dropped our cigarettes, and didn't even bother to dig into them with the heels of our feet before we made a run for it.

But as soon as we came out of the alley and burst into the main area, free of the shadows, vulnerability hit us like a bullet. I heard the reloading of a gun, and no sooner had the gunman began shooting again, I saw Rye fell down next to me with a scream of agony and a loud thud. Stefan then toppled over himself from behind, and not a second after, Isaak and Christiaan hit the ground as well.

My feet screeched to a halt, tearing grass from the dirt as I dared to turn around and seize a glance at the boys, wondering if there was anything I could do to rescue them.

But it was too late, for crimson blood pooled around each of their bodies, as their eyes closed for the very last time.

And with the sound of another cast of bullets, I fell to meet the boys on the ground, my heart stopping next to theirs. And with my last, dying thoughts, my mind drifted to the sky, floating high above a thick layer of clouds, where all I saw was the sunrise, peaking halfway through the clouds as it painted the sky a sweet mix of orange and pink.