“When this flesh and heart shall fail, and mortal life shall cease…”

  Sam’s music teacher was singing behind the piano. He sang slowly, in a low, minor key, though the words meant nothing to Nicolas.

  “I shall possess, within the veil…

  A life of joy and peace…”

  It sounded like an older song, like one of those old hymns they sang at the church Nicolas’ grandmother used to take him to around Christmas. And later, Nicolas recognized it.

  “The earth shall soon dissolve like snow; The sun forbear to shine…

  …but God, who called me here below,

  Will be forever mine.

  When we’ve been there ten thousand years,

  Bright shining as the sun…

  …we’ve no less days to sing God’s praise

  Then when we’d first begun.”

  The song was slower, sounding almost depressing the way Mr. Hyde sang it.

  “Amazing grace: How sweet the sound…

  …That saved a wretch like me.

  I once was lost, but now I’m found;

  Was blind, but now I see…”

  Nicolas’ face felt frozen in place as he stared blankly at the closed casket, drying tears still frozen to his cheeks.

  His chest hurt, though he wasn't sure if it was the heartache, or the inability to breathe properly for the past four days.

  His aunt, Kari, was staying in Portland for the week, to attend the funeral.

  Sam, please don't leave me.

  The thought was like twisting a knife in a wound that had only just started to halt bleeding, because as soon as the thought entered his mind, more tears came out, falling down his wet face.

  His eyes didn't move from where Sam lay, asleep in a wooden box that’d been covered with flowers.

  I need you, Sam.

  When the song ended, silence filled the funeral home. Nicolas looked for people who may have been Sam's friends, but he knew almost everyone he saw. His dad, Aunt Kari, Wayne, his grandfather, and Sam’s girlfriend, Euphoria.

  “Samuel Starwood was a loved young man,” the only man Nicolas didn’t recognize said from beside the casket.

  Nicolas wanted to scream at the word was, but with his tears seemingly controlling his breathing, that wasn't possible.

  Never had he hated one word more than he hated that one.

  Sam is loved, he’s not gone.

  He can’t be gone.

  The man was talking again, but Nicolas didn’t hear the words. The world felt as though it’d been shattered, like reality had been replaced by darkness.

  Nicolas closed his eyes, rubbing them to make it a little easier to see as everyone began stepping out of the funeral home, through a door to the left.

  He followed, though his body seemed to protest any kind of movement. Maybe it was because he’d hardly slept at all the past few days; maybe he’d lost all will to live.

  Nicolas heard stories about how dolphins can become so close to someone, that sometimes, if their human friend leaves them, the dolphins become so heartbroken that they lose motivation to swim, and drown.

  Nicolas felt like a drowning dolphin.

  “Hey, Nicolas,” a soft, tired voice spoke out. He turned away from where the pallbearers were loading the casket into the hearse, his eyes meeting Euphoria’s. “Do you want to ride with me?”

  She was smiling, but the tears drying onto her face conveyed a completely different emotion.

  She needs me, Nicolas thought, wanting to help her. But he couldn’t. She needs Sam.

  “Sure,” Nicolas replied, realizing it was the first time he’d spoken all day. He sniffled as he followed Euphoria, the air feeling cold against his sadness-stained face.

  He followed her to a small, red car, which looked like it held maybe five people at the most.

  Nicolas pulled the glossy door open, and stepped inside, surprised by how clean it was. Nicolas had grown so used to things being trashy, that he often forgot that clean places existed.

  Euphoria got into the driver seat, her keys hitting together like wind chimes as she closed the door, before placing the key into the ignition, twisting it as the car hummed to life with a calm, gentle buzz.

  They stayed in silence for a few moments, until the car ahead of them began to move, following the hearse ahead. It was Nicolas’ grandfather's car, at least he assumed so.

  The train of cars turned out of the funeral home, turning right and heading down the thin road that led straight to the cemetery. Euphoria's car rocked back and forth as it just barely hit the curb, the keychain jingling back and forth.

  “Are you feeling alright?” she asked him.

  “No,” Nicolas answered. “What do you think?” He didn't mean to snap, but he didn't feel guilty about it either.

  “I guess that was kind of dumb of me to ask. Do you want to come to my place after here? Sam always talked about how awful it was where you two lived.” Her soft voice couldn't hide the word ‘lived,’ the past-tense version of ‘live.’

  “I'll be okay,” Nicolas answered. The truth was, he wanted to be alone.

  He also had no intention of ever going home.

  ***

  Nicolas was standing in the rain as the ground slowly turned to mud—the dark clouds above finally letting out their tears, and Nicolas did the same; lightning crackling over his head as he cried and screamed Sam’s name.

  The tombstone had Samuel Starwood: 2003 - 2028 written on it. Underneath, rested two flowers. One placed by Euphoria; the other placed by Nicolas.

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  Where's the flowers his friends left him?

  Where were Sam's friends?

  Nicolas reached down, placing his hand on the tombstone.

  “Sam, please don’t leave me,” he croaked, his voice sounding empty of any emotion, like he'd cried it all out. “Please.”

  But Sam didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. Nicolas had heard stories about people being able to “feel” their loved ones' presence after death, but he couldn’t feel anything. Just the rain falling down his face, and the empty silence of a world without the only person who ever cared about him.

  Why couldn’t it have been me?

  The rain made it feel like Nicolas’ tears were dripping down his whole body.

  The rain didn’t stop, and Nicolas didn’t stop crying either. This was one of those cries where it seemed to take control over his lungs, suffocating him in his own brokenness.

  Nicolas didn’t know how long he was crying there in the cemetery, but when the real world came back into focus, it was dark outside. It was still raining, but it wasn’t pouring like it was before.

  Nicolas forced himself to his feet, which took so much force that it reminded him of Atlas from ancient Greek mythology, the titan who'd been forever condemned to hold the heavens up in the sky.

  Once on his feet, he took a small, forced step away from the grave, and away from where Sam's body lay.

  “I can’t do this,” Nicolas said out loud, hoping Sam’s spirit could hear him somehow. “I need you.”

  The only sound that replied was the rain.

  Nicolas reached into his pocket, and pulled out the note he'd found in his room that tragic morning. Carefully, he unfolded the paper, as small drops of water created circles of gray on the page.

  The streetlight beside him gave off enough light to see the words, yet Nicolas still hadn't been able to process them.

  Dear Nicolas.

  I don’t know how else to write this. I’m not even sure if I can write this.

  I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be there for you forever.

  I never wanted you to end up like me: Friendless, hurt, or lonely.

  I don’t want you ending things the way I did.

  I’m sorry if this letter seems quite choppy, I’m not able to think very well at the moment.

  I’m sorry I can’t be there for you anymore, but the truth is, you were there for me more than I think you realize.

  I’m sorry for hurting you. I know this is selfish of me, and I know if there’s an afterlife, I’ll regret this for eternity. Maybe that’s what hell is, I don’t know. What I do know is that things will get better for you. They didn’t for me, and I’m okay with that now, because in an hour after writing this, it’ll be over. All this loneliness, it’ll be gone.

  You’re a strong kid, Nicolas; and I love you, here and wherever we meet again.

  Fight for me, please.

  Sam

  Nicolas couldn’t understand why Sam would feel that way.

  He has friends, right? he thought to himself, trying to remember Sam mentioning them.

  He has to.

  Sam's cool, funny, kind, likable; nothing like Nicolas. Surely, there has to be more people who love him, right? What about his coworkers?

  He folded the note back up, and placed it into his back pocket. Thankfully, the rain had died down some.

  His clothes were soaked, making them feel cold and heavy against his skin.

  I should get somewhere dry before I get sick, Nicolas thought to himself. The dark green sweater Euphoria gave him kept him somewhat dry for a while, but that was only while the rain was no more than tiny sprinkles. As soon as it began raining harder, the water soaked into the fabrics like a sponge, making it feel heavy.

  He took in another shaky, forced breath, wiped his face with his hands, and turned around, away from the place where Sam's body lay.

  He wasn’t going back home, he knew that already. Instead, he found himself seeking shelter from the rain, sitting under a gazebo in the park across the road from the cemetery. He stayed there, in the rainy, summer night, wearing soggy clothes he had worn for weeks now. Nicolas didn't have a plan, but he knew he couldn't go home anymore. He'd thought about running away for a while now, since it wasn't like his dad would care, or even notice. But Sam gave him a reason to stay. Sam gave Nicolas hope that everything would be okay, and now Nicolas knew that wasn't true.

  The world flashed white as thunder roared through the sky; like even God himself was crying.

  Nicolas knew he couldn't stay here forever. Soon, he would have to find somewhere to live, and since the people who owned cities hated the sight of homeless people sleeping in public, he knew it'd be hard to find somewhere safe to stay.

  But there was somewhere he could go. His other home. The place he'd spent countless hours, sometimes whole nights, just to avoid going home to his father.

  It used to be a house, but had long been forgotten and abandoned. He and his old friend used to spend afternoons there all the time, back when Ash still lived in Oregon.

  I could go to the crowhouse, he thought to himself. They'd called it the “crowhouse” ever since they found it, back before they were even teenagers; naming it after the murder of crows that often landed on the roof, as if it were their hangout place also.

  Nicolas still knew where it was, and it wasn’t too far. To make things even better, the crowhouse was deep in the woods, and as far as Nicolas and Ash knew, no one had been in it since they discovered it, and they never told anyone either.

  I could live there.

  It wasn't the best place to live, but it was quiet, away from the world; away from his dad.

  And the memories it brought might help ease the pain of being left behind.

  The rain was slowing down now, sending only a tiny mist down; or as Sam used to call it, spitting. The clouds were spitting rain.

  Nicolas could hear the drops falling from the trees above, hitting the top of the gazebo with little plop, plop, plop sounds, which helped calm the painful thoughts and emotions—and memories.

  Memories of Sam.

  Everything reminded him of Sam it seemed. Even the spitting rain reminded him of his brother.

  Nicolas began to cry again, but not for long. His lips felt dry, and he wondered if it were possible to dehydrate by crying. Once the tears stopped, Nicolas decided his plan was a good one. He wasn't going home.

  He was going to the crowhouse.

  ***

  It was one of those places you could only get to if you knew how. The crowhouse was out in the middle of nowhere, down an old scar in the woods where a dirt road used to be. Now, it was all covered in grass and brambles that grabbed at Nicolas’ bare legs as he walked through the wet forest, using his phone flashlight to see where he was going in the darkness.

  Then, he turned off the trail, in what would seem like a random direction to someone who didn't know where they were going. But Nicolas knew exactly where he was going.

  He'd practically memorized these woods; the only reason he had the flashlight was to keep from stepping on any snakes or whatever else might be living out here, because he had a feeling he could probably get there without it. In his mind he could see the house in full detail. The glassless windows, the door with only one working hinge so it tilted slightly; the ugly, dust covered couch; the cracked mirror in the bathroom.

  Then, he could see it. Even in the dark, wet night, he could still see the house, no more than a shadowy blur in the middle of the woods. The roof was a dark brown, almost black, the walls made of old, crumbling red bricks.

  Nicolas continued forward, almost tripping on a large rock that lay in what used to be a yard.

  Even when they came here daily, the large rock seemed to make it a continued mission to trip Nicolas. In fact, he’d tripped on it so many times that Ash had nicknamed it Nicolas’ gravestone, which Nicolas thought was a little bit of an exaggeration. As he neared the door, a million memories flooded back to him. As Nicolas walked through the doorway, he remembered how it looked when they first found the crowhouse. The door was closed then, and they had to force it open, causing it to screech and groan as it scraped along the hardwood floor. Nicolas squeezed himself through the gap between the door and the doorway, since the hinges broke after only a few weeks of them opening and closing the door. He stepped into what was once the living room, letting his mind replay the memories that had begun to return. The strongest being one where he’d almost told Ash a secret that, at the time, no one else knew.

  Nicolas normally didn’t like being here at night, since the dusty cobwebs and moldy walls made the crowhouse appear quite haunting in the darkness. But ever since his aunt showed up to tell him that the only person in his life that loved him was dead, Nicolas hadn’t been able to feel much of anything, so his fear had been numbed by the pain.

  He turned to the right, stepping over some rotting boards that lay across the old, dusty floor. Particles of either dust or mold danced around the phone’s flashlight, but the place didn’t smell bad. In fact, to Nicolas, it smelled like memories and old books.

  He stepped toward the couch, which had become covered in scratches, animal hair, and dirt. Maybe the crows aren’t the only animals who hang out here, he thought to himself, knowing Ash would’ve found it funny if they were here.

  Plants grew through the holes in the floor, and ivy climbed up the doorway to the bathroom as Nicolas turned away from the living room, stepping instead into the bathroom and moving toward the cracked mirror straight ahead.

  He always wondered what broke it. When he and Ash first found the place, the mirror was blurry and dusty, but it wasn’t broken or cracked at all. He used to always joke about it breaking because he’d spent too many hours staring at it.

  Only, something was different now. Now he was staring at it again, but not to criticize his reflection, because that wasn’t possible anymore.

  In the mirror in front of him, there wasn’t an emotionally numb, lonely seventeen-year-old.

  Because through the mirror, the bathroom was completely empty.