Sorry | Murphamy AU | vol.1

12. Death isn't colder than heartbreak (it isn't)

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Song: Go To Hell

Artist: Go Rado

Take your someone else and let me make this crystal clear that, that I don't need your help and I'm okay by myself, you can go to hell

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Bellamy P.o.v.

His words... they make me feel sad. That's the most I can elaborate. It's probably just because it's a feeling that I'm not used to and something I can't understand fully. I don't tend to get sad and it's not something that I'm enjoying very much. I feel like this is all my fault. Is it? Could I have done something to prevent this? It can't be later than midnight and the distant sound of a train passes. Has anyone else been killed here? Is that possible? I mean it's so excluded that anything could happen.

"It wasn't your fault." I mumble, pulling some distance between us. He turns his head, looking at the corpse of my late friend. He just lays there; a bloody mess. I've been friends with him for years. Shouldn't I be feeling something more than disgust?

"What do we do with him?" I ask.

"We're going to burn him." 

Murphy P.o.v.

I'm a faster runner than Bellamy, so I sprint to the gas station to buy gasoline and matches. Technically I stole them, but getting caught at a seven-eleven is the least of my concern right now. I hear the store clerk call the police, but my hood is on so they won't catch me- hopefully.

I make sure that no one is around as Bellamy pours the refined petroleum over his dead friend and lights three matches. I turn around take the box from him, not watching Mbege ignite. I take a match, scratching it's head along the sand-paper like substance. I just love the sound. That crack, it makes when it combusts into a flame is beautiful, just like the fire.

"Don't burn yourself," Bellamy advises and I look up at him, ignoring the lit match. I just killed someone and he doesn't think I know how to handle fire-

"Shit!" I hiss, dropping the match, it lands on the ground and I stomp it out, immediately blushing. He laughs and I keep my eyes locked on the ground in embarrassment.

"You're cute." he states, putting his arms around me. I feel safer than I should when he does that.

"Shut up," I mumble, looking at him. He covers his nose and mouth with the crease of his elbow, wincing.

"God," he chokes and I inhale, focusing on breathing through my mouth, which is only worse. The fire smells of burning hair and rancid barbecue. I've smelt this twice before. It's not something you can forget easily.

We sit down with a comfortable distance from the flame, not speaking. I think Bellamy gets up at one point to puke, but I'm so focused on the flame that I only notice the lack of light once there's no more fire. Three hours and Mbege's turned into nothing but ash, burnt muscle tissue and bone. I walk up to the remains. 

"We have to throw these out." I gesture to the bits and pieces of Mbege. Bellamy gives me an unamused glance.

"Right. Let's just throw them in the garbage- no one'll be suspicious." he speaks sarcastically and I roll my eyes, turning to face him.

"I mean in the lake." I specify and he looks at the bones, disgusted.

"How do we get them there?" he doesn't look like he's going to touch them. I shrug off my sweater, using my teeth to bite off the tag. No brand sweater, no way of saying that it was mine. I crouch down, setting my jaw and holding my breath as I gather his putrid remains, piling them on the sweater that I use as a makeshift bag. It smells even worse up close. He's still warm.