Blank Grave (PART 12)

And with that, he packed up. He stood quickly with a slight, excited hop. He still wore the same giddy grin on his face as he jogged, clutching his backpack as it swung up and down on his back.

He still wore that same, giddy grin as he approached the street. The fear was gone from his eyes now.

He was halfway across the empty street when he turned around, waving to me and calling out “I’ll be back tomorrow!” The grin was still painted across his face.

Then I saw it. A car. He was halfway through the promise when it turned the corner, speeding towards him.

He didn’t see it.

I got up.

He didn’t notice.

I ran to the fence.

It got closer to him.

He finished saying “tomorrow.”

I opened my mouth.

He opened his eyes.

The car was a few yard away.

I willed my voice to work.

It wouldn’t.

I tried to scream.

I couldn’t.

I tried to warn him.

I couldn’t.

The car was right behind him.

He turned around.

My eyes widened.

He shielded his face with his arms.

It hit him.

Adam, my friend; Adam, the one person who talked to me; Adam, the only person I cared about; Adam–that Adam–my Adam– flew. He was catapulted backwards through the air.

He was like a baby bird–soaring then crashing. His head made a loud CRACK to accompany the incessant screeching that plagued my ears. The rest of his body followed with an inhuman crunch.

Blood seeped out from under him; thick, crimson blood. It dyed his clothes. His hair, matted with the liquid, had fallen before his eyes.

I knew as I watched his blood-soaked chest heave once, twice, then lie still that I would never see those beautiful azure eyes again. I would never hear his sweet, melodic voice again. Those bloody, torn lips would never smile at me again.

My mind went blank, unbearably blank. Not a thought entered or left my brain, not even as I watched the paramedics give him CPR before loading him into an ambulance with its lights and sirens blaring.

I could not form a single word as the sun rose at dawn and the police officers went home. I stood at that fence the entire morning and still my mind remained blank.

The next day, as the sun rose high into the sky, the only thing on my mind was his face. It smiled, his azure eyes lighting up in time with the smile. Even in the dim light, the joy was apparent on his face as he explained the appearance of the watch on his wrist; the watch that was now lying shattered on the road. A brand new, gold-plated Rolex, his prized possession, destroyed beyond recognition. It was reduced to a small pile of broken glass and shiny mangled metal, lifeless, just like him.

His face turned to me from afar and he waved, the shiny Rolex glinting in the dim lamplight. His voice, smooth and sweet like water on a hot day said, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Then he disappeared and my mind went blank again.

My thoughts returned. At first, it was only his voice repeating the same line over and over again.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He promised–the same promise he made every day. He never, ever broke a promise. He will come back.

Besides, I promised him everything would be fine, that he wouldn’t die. I can’t–won’t–break that promise.

He can’t be dead. Adam can’t be dead. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t leave me like this.

That phrase repeated over and over again in my head as I waited for him. It became a constant, continuous chant that followed me through the night. The stars joined in, refusing to let me consider any other possibilities.

When morning came and the sun rose above my head, I told myself he was just running late. The wind agreed with me, whispering its reassuring chant in my ears.

The sun had set and Adam was still not here. I longed more than ever to hear his voice, to see his smile now; yet I knew– somewhere deep inside, I knew– that he wouldn’t come jogging down that block ever again.

I knew as I watched mourners set up a memorial against the fence. I knew as I watched the hearse pull up and six men unload a large ebony coffin. I knew as I stood with the people dressed in black and watched them lower the coffin into a deep, heartless hole. And I knew as that hole swallowed the coffin, smothering it with dirt, that they were burying Adam–my Adam.

I knew he was dead. I knew he had been hit by that car and died. I knew it was my fault he was gone. I was the real cause behind his death.

I knew he was dead. Yet my mind kept tricking me, kept making me believe that he would jog through the cemetery gates– the large, wrought iron gates–if I stared at them long enough.

I knew it was all a lie, yet I believed it anyways. I watched those gates for 3 days, never daring to take my eyes off them even long enough to blink for the fear that I’d miss him.

I finally gave up on that third day and chose to stare at his gravestone instead, briefly surveying the bouquets his mother and other family members had left on the day of his burial, as well as one fresher batch that had been left by a burly, middle aged man (probably his father) the day after.

The engraving was what caught my attention.

Adam Walker

September 30, 2033 – September 30, 2050

Son, brother, friend.

Adam was more than that; much, much more. He was a saviour– he had saved me from the eternal loneliness that had me in its cold, cruel grip. He gave me more than friendship; he gave a meaning to my existence, even for just a brief time.

And what had I given him? Nothing. All I did was take from him, and I took everything.

I took more than his life– I took his friends, his family, his bright future as an engineer– I took everything.

I was nothing more than a thief; a translucent, intangible thief.

I thought of all these things as I stared at his tombstone, reading and rereading the same engraved words, waiting for him to come back to me.

He would.

I believed he would.

I believed he would come back as a ghost; that he would be one of the few; that he would stick around like I had; that we would be together again and, this time, nothing would separate us.

So I waited. I waited as the sun set and rose again. I waited as the days got longer, then shorter, then longer again, always following the same, repetitive pattern.

I stared at his tombstone and waited for him to come back to me.

He never did.

A.N.: Here’s the final part! Hope you guys liked it! Please let me know what you think in the comments! 😀


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