There had been life. Now there was sorrow. Until that night he had kept the tears from coming, swallowing the fear, trying to keep the catastrophe at bay. He went upstairs to change his soaking wet funeral clothes, but all he was able to do was crouching to the floor and let go of everything. Soon he wouldn't be able to distinguish his tears from the rain on his shirt. He got up, still sobbing, went to the sink and washed his face with freezing water in an attempt to send the grief away.

boy, sad, and cigarette image

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. A gaunt, sad face staring back. His dark eyes had lost the spark they had once. His hair had grown too long, he shivered at the sight of the ghost he was becoming. He couldn't think clear, everything had smudged and melted in one single thought: look what his death did to you. He couldn't bear that vision anymore and in a rush of anger he punched the mirror, his knuckles cut, the glass shattered and went to the floor, little drops of blood fell into the drain. After all the grief was still there.

aesthetic, bandage, and hand image

She walked in, a worried expression on her face, her eyes watery. There wasn't need for an explanation. Their friend had gone and left them. They shared the same sorrow, and only she could understand him. She hugged him without saying a word and he cried until he couldn't stand anymore. She told him:

you know, sometimes it's good to let the pain out, cry as much as you need but at some point stop and fight back, he would have wanted that."
Temporarily removed

|Sarah Lynch|