Happy Endings, The End Of The World and Other Peculiar Melancholies

5 : grief

This running, this adrenaline. It was the first time Liam had been able to channel his anger since last week, and damn it felt good. The sickly-sweet night air refreshed his lungs and the ground beneath his feet didn't feel like it was trying to comfort him or escape, but met his feet with the same force that he hit it with.

Out here in the untended, natural fields he could finally get away from feeling like some ugly, expensive vase no one wanted to have nor break, but he felt human. He could almost forget about...

But no. Andrew would never be forgotten. As Liam remembered Andrew's knowing smile and mischievous laugh, he started to realise how his breath had outran him. He started feeling the flooding anger overflowing into his already blurry mind, raised his fist to the heavens.

"Damn you, God!" he swore, shouted.
"Damn you!" it felt good. After believing in God, in his power, for so long, he couldn't help but feel betrayed by the theoretical being he thought he trusted. "Why did you take Andrew away!" Liam could feel his anger shooting upwards now, his mind searching for what he could do to convince the sky that Andrew could, needed to, come back.

Alone in the fields, Liam jumped and sprinted and shouted like a lunatic, illustrating his frustration.