Chapter Three - "Soul-Full Rule"

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I lost my cousin when I was younger. I couldn't visit him at his grave because my grandmother said I was too young to go with her. She had to travel deep into the other side of the Wall to go to his funeral.

But when she came back, and when I asked her about it, and when she finally talked about it, one thing I remember her telling me about it was that my cousin listened to this one song on his last days.

"Just breath," she said, about the song, holding back emotions. She has always been stronger than me.

Maybe that's what I should have told Felix, I think regrettably. Or maybe that's what I should tell myself at the moment?

Just breath.

Oso turns back around and tells me to close Felix's eyes.

Before I do, I look back at where Henry was, forgetting all about the commotion when Felix had to go.

I see that there is no more Henry, or his men, though.

It seems they have left with Felix.

"Turn around and close his eyes," snaps Oso.

"Those fucking pigs killed him," says Tommy.

He then aims his gun at the lifeless men on the floor. The dust on the gravel begins to rise, creating a sort of mist in the air, complicating Tommy's aim.

"Leave it," says Oso. "Can't you see we have bigger problems."

Bobby closes Felix's eyes for me because I'm still too lost in Henry and his men and Felix, and their journey, and where they went, and if maybe they are with my cousin right now.

I picture them all having dinner; all of them, "breaking bread."

Perturbed, Oso zooms out of the scene where all the other men with families -- I'm guessing even though they don't have kids they might have parents and siblings; all left their significant others and are now somewhere else -- are leaving, or have, left with Felix.

The whole ride back was somber: Oso, Bill, Tommy, and myself -- we all kept our heads down and mouths shut.

Felix didn't move either. He stayed on me, holding on, and I stayed under him, holding on.

When we got back to the Black Catz bar, most of those that were inside before we left were now outside waiting. They must have heard of what had happened too, because I even saw a few of them with medical supplies, even over all their toxicationess; zoinked but willing to help.

"Get him to the beds," one man yells.

Then a woman throws a bandage and a brown bottle of alcohol at me.

"Press it down until we reach him," she says.

Oso looks back at me and grabs the supplies just thrown at me from where they landed: over Felix, over my lap.

"There's no point," he replies, to both the man and woman whom have given me the nursing-instructions.

"What do you mean?" asks the woman.

"I'm sorry, Lucy."

"What do you mean?" she repeats, this time in a higher, more cracked voice. "What the hell do you mean?"

The man, I believe, picks up on Oso's real message.

"Come here," the man says says to the woman, grabbing her and holding her.

"No! What does he mean?" she repeats.

Her cry gets louder.

"Come here," the man repeats, holding her even tighter, pushing her head down into his shoulder, part of it over his chest -- sort of how I was holding Felix; but one of us was alive.

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