Intoxicated

Chapter One

The graveyard is quieter than usual. Not even the birds chirp from the thick, gnarly branches stretching their bare limbs over the field of graves. Considering it's a small town, there are rows upon rows of them. Probably got stuck here and never left. I bury my hands in the pockets of my sherpa lined jacket; an ugly, decaying green. The grass here is brighter. Or would be if it weren't for the blanket of dead leaves, which get stuck to my worn sneakers, with the morning dew soaking through them.

I slow to a stop at an all too familiar headstone, the only one I know and care about. In this town, anyway. I've got a few buried skeletons, though not in my closet. In the dirt, just like this one, with a slab of stone and a verse of empty words. 

Alex Reagon

20 April 1998 - 13 April 2015

His memories live on forever in our hearts.

I brush a strand of hair from my face, ruffled by the bitter breeze that bites my cheeks. Stings my eyes. The wind normally howls, like a pack of starved wolves, wild and fierce. I guess I should be grateful it isn't, or that there aren't any wolves here. 

As far as I'm aware.

I stare at the words. His grave. It's unsettling to think his corpse is right beneath me - the one I hugged, saw walking around, talked to. Well, his... live... self, anyway. I need to stop thinking. If only that were possible. Half - no, majority of my problems wouldn't exist. 

I sway on my feet. "As if that'll ever happen," I scoff, my voice smothered in the veil of fog all around. Classic graveyard setting for a horror movie. Alex liked horror movies. We watched them all the time. I bite down on my lower lip, a lump forming in my throat. Okay, maybe it's not the breeze. I wipe the corner of my eye. I feel like I should say something - anything.

But I haven't been able to. I'm not sure what I'd even say. That you miss him? Tell him to come back? That it isn't the same without him? I gulp. The lump won't go away, and nor has the gaping hole in my chest. It feels like it's been punched there, like it's swallowing me whole.

All I'm thinking goes without saying. I don't think I could even put it into words. It wouldn't make sense, or describe how strong this sudden emptiness is since he died. How it's devouring me from the inside out. I miss you, I want to say, but the words die in my throat. 

A stray tear streaks down my cheek. "Goddamnit," I hiss, wiping it away. "I knew I shouldn't have come here."

I just felt like I needed to. Before I had to face everything. Everyone at school. It's almost as depressing as this stupid cemetery, I think, turning on my heel and starting towards the pavement. To the hellhole I go. 

I keep my gaze lowered, not looking back or forward. Thankfully, the streets are near empty, obscured in fog. A car whooshes by. I jolt like a deer in headlights. It's just a stupid car, I remind myself, picking up my pace. The only sound is my shoes slapping against the concrete as it speeds ahead, pulling into the school parking lot.

God, that better not have been someone I know. Not that anyone really knows me, but watching the arguably most popular, attractive boy in the school that wasn't an asshole get run over - well, word goes around. It's impossible to keep something like that from the wake of vain, social climbing vultures at my school.

Maybe they'll feel sorry enough for me that they'll leave me alone. Especially because he was my friend - my only friend, really. Not that it matters to them. Why would it? 'His memories will forever live in our hearts'. It's bullshit. They've already forgotten, and if they haven't - they don't even care.