Death...

He would never have thought that this would happen…

They’ve grown up being around ghost fighting – him and Vio – and it’s become more like a game of tag. You’re it and you have to go tag the ghost (especially when it comes to BoxLunch). Were there times when they were over their heads? Yes, but they always made it out alright. A couple of bruises, a few scratches, a broken arm one time…

But never, ever this.

“Darry?” called a sweet, concerned voice.

His thoughts stopped, eyes blinking. He didn’t respond to his mother, only curling himself more into a ball, his comforter bundling him up.

A sad sigh came from his doorway, and quiet footsteps neared his bed. Darry slammed his eyes shut, afraid to see the look on her face. The pity, the sorrow, and her concern for his well-being…he didn’t want to see it carved onto her face.

A gentle hand touched his padded shoulders.

“Come on, Darry,” his mother called quietly. “It’s time to get up.”

He made no hint of movement, only trying to fool her that he’s asleep. His mother’s hand stayed on his shoulder for a couple of minutes before it pulled away, leaving a sigh in its wake. Darry listened to her footsteps falling away from him, his door closing with a small click.

Darry’s dull lavender eyes slowly opened, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

It’s only been two weeks, but yet it feels like an eternally has passed.  

He vaguely remembers that day when it happened, but the sight of Vio will never leave his mind.

He recalled chasing a particular nasty ghost. As usual, he ignored Vio’s nagging and chased after it. The phantom feel of adrenaline coursed through his body as he and Vio trailed after the ghost, getting a couple of shots at it.

That’s when it decided to fight back.

Darry can only remember getting his head slammed into a building, his mind numbed with pain before he noticed one of the most horrifying things he’ll ever see.

Vio falling.

He didn’t notice at the time that the ghost destroyed her sleigh, resulting in her plummeting to her doom. His racing thoughts were slow, his body moving like he was in a tar pit. He didn’t stop her fall because he couldn’t think to do anything, even though her face was one of absolute terror.

It was the sound that snapped him out of the dreamlike trance, his otherworldly eyes wider than dinner plates.

Her body was spread-eagle on the asphalt, limbs at awkward angles and a bit of blood dripping out of her mouth…

He had rushed to get down to the ground, to believe that she’s all right even though her body looked as lifeless as a fallen puppet. He remembered shaking her gently, intensely watching her chest to see if it breathed.

But it did not.

It was as still as stone.

It felt like the world wasn’t even there as he stared at his best friend, tears streaking down his face. He didn’t want to believe that she was really gone, that there’s still a chance that she was playing some cruel joke on him to get pay back.

But she never moved. Only he did when someone picked him up, their touch almost colder than ice as a mature woman’s wail screamed into his eardrums. The familiar cold hand rubbed into his snow-white hair, a rumbling voice echoed into his ear quietly over the cries of a mourning mother.

“I’m so sorry son.”

New tears formed in his eyes, still staring at a wall. Darry sniffled before he glanced at his hands. He gulped a couple of times, his throat dry.

“What’s th-the point,” he croaked, “of ha-having powers…

…when I can’t protect the ones I love the most…?”