Death.
It's a bittersweet concept.
Some people fear it, others welcome it and some just don't see a point.
Then some live with them all.
I knew someone like that once, years ago come to think of it.
It was a tragic story, but knowing his stance on death.
It becomes a little harder to hear.

My name is Alex Radley. I grew up in a small town, a very quiet place. You'd bet if someone was brutally murdered the town's folk would be offering their children and parents just to see something, anything, happen.

I grew up next door to a boy, a quiet boy. He always had tired eyes. I didn't even have the opportunity to learn his name until year 6 when he transferred to our school. Our town was small but boy did we have a lot of schools. I was running around with my friends, George and Ian when I ran into this small boy. He was about 4 inches smaller than me, with black curly hair and dull brown eyes. I apologised of course, like the polite Englishman I was, he only nodded, though. I had to nag at him for the rest of playtime just so I could learn his flippin' name. Keegan Davidson. A little anticlimactic don't you think? It became a habit for him and me, I'd chase him around the playground trying to get him to speak, then he'd tell me just one thing. Sometimes it would be something useful like his favourite colour or his age but then other times he'd just tell me something silly like his second cat's death date. He was a right downer sometimes. Over the months I'd learnt the important info;

He was born in London

He lived with his mum and aunt

He was a few months younger than me

And he was terrible at looking after cats, he was already on his seventh!

After constant nagging and teasing, he finally started talking more, we'd hang out at lunchtime and break by the bins until the teachers would come and tell us off for being so disgusting. He'd come over to my house on Saturday's and I'd go to his on Sunday's. We had ourselves a very coordinated schedule. If I wasn't ready when he came round to pick me up for school he'd just leave, a blank look on his face. My parents liked him, apparently he was so very polite and that I should learn from him. His Mum was very different from him, she had a ghastly accent, I'm not surprised we hadn't seen her around, to have an accent like that in this town was practically a death sentence and that was before you looked at what she wore. I'll put it simply. No child of 11 should see someone in something like that. It scarred me, I can't even imagine what it'd be like to grow up with her!

Primary school ended and we were thrown, quite literally, into secondary school and teenage life. Acne, homework, study this and study that. It was definitely stressful for everyone. Some kids started picking on me and Keegan. It started off small and harmless, just a few petty nicknames or shoves in the corridor. Pretty tame compared to the horror stories people tell in primary 7. But it started getting worse. Not as much for me, as it was for Keegan. At first he'd open to me, tell me all the cruel slurs and insults they'd throw at him. The punches they'd literally throw. But soon he stopped telling me these things. He kept to himself and honestly, at the time I thought it'd stopped. I'd been so caught up in my own problems and stresses, living life like I was on top of the world when in reality, the sky I thought I'd conquered was simply a facade built upon ignorance and lies. He'd paint on a smile to disguise the bruises on his chest. He'd laugh at every joke, holding back tears. He'd do all the things I did, mirroring my actions as if I were the gleaming beacon of what it means to be happy.

It was December 13th, the snow piling up around us. The day started out like it usually would, Keegan perching outside my door at 8:15, us walking to school laughing about last night's episode of EastEnders, separating when the bell rang, walking to our respected classes.

Our teacher took registration, read out the bulletin and excused us to the hall for our weekly assembly.

I sat down next to Keegan, both of us cracking jokes about Mr Alger's toupee, desperately stifling our laughs. Mr Alger gestured for us to quiet down as he began our morning prayer.

"Lord,
You are the wind in my sails
You guide me as I steer and find direction.
You give me the strength to keep on going.
You watch over me as I navigate stormy seas.
You are the harbour where I stop for rest.
You are my encourager when I lose hope.
You are the lighthouse that keeps my path safe.
You are with me always.
Thank you.

Ame-"

A gunshot echoed through the silent hallways and at the end stood a man, no a boy, holding a gun in his right hand, aiming it at the sky. Some sat, paralysed while others ran. The boy slowly lowered his gun and strode towards the young adults who stood up and began to run for their lives.

I grabbed hold off Keegan's hand, pulling him along behind me as we ran for the main exit. We ran and ran in search of refuge only to find ourselves trapped. My eyes whizzed around aimlessly, desperately searching for somewhere, anywhere considered safe. I spotted a small alleyway between the school building and the headmasters building. It was surely cramped but definitely hidden. I pushed Keegan into the passage, shuffling along beside him. Once we came to a stop I checked him over, to see if he was okay but all I saw was emptiness. HIs eyes were cold and lifeless, his face drained of all colour. He looked... dead.

"Keag, it'll be okay. He'll never find us here. The police will come and take that guy away. Everything will be okay." I assured, shaking his shoulders slightly.

He tilted his head up to look at me slightly, his face still the same.

"No, it won't..." He whispered, his eyes bubbling with tears.

"Of course it will, he can't find us. He doesn't even know us." I shushed, my voice wavering slightly.

"But he does know me, he knows you too..." Keegan mumbled, averting his eyes to the floor.

"What do you mean?" I questioned. Tears began to drip from his eyes, hitting the stone below us.

"That's my brother Aiden... He's coming for me and if you don't run, he'll come for you too!" he sobbed.

I pulled him into a tight hug, his tears dampening my shirt.

"I won't leave you..." I whispered as his sobs began to subside.

"But you might get hurt!" He struggled

"I don't care, I won't ever leave you!"

"Thank you Ale-" Another gunshot fired, Keegan jumping back against the wall with a start.

"Hello, little brother! Come out to play!" A deep voice grumbled, nearing closer with every word.

"I know you're here!" He shouted.

My breath hitched in my throat as a shadow cast down the walls, showing Keegan's brother, gun still in hand.

"Well look who we have here? My brother and his little nerd friend! Now, won't this be fun!" He taunted, stepping into the alley.

"Don't hurt him! You have no right!" I shouted, my voice cracking slightly.

"Oh really?"

It all happened so fast.

The sound of the gun being loaded

The sound of police cars and ambulances rushing down the street

The police screaming something about surrendering but Aiden wasn't having any of it.

The gun shot

The scream

The second shot

The second scream

Two bodies lying on the floor

And I was left standing.

I fell down to Keegan's level. He grabbed my hand, grinding his teeth together, trying desperately to fight through the pain. I glanced over at Aiden's body, lying stiff at the entrance to the alley, blood pooling around the bullet wound in his head. I looked back down at Keegan, his eyes full of fear. We'd talked about death before and he'd always been impartial, almost welcoming of the idea that life has a beginning and an end. He didn't believe in the afterlife or in any god, he was okay with nothing but as I gazed desperately into his eyes, his grip tight on my wrist. I watched the life slowly drain out of his eyes, alone and afraid. His grip was slowly loosening and his small movements were becoming still. His eyes scanned the area around him, seeing the police taking away his brother's body.

He looked back at me one last time, tears slowly falling from his eyes as he whispered

"I don't wanna die..."

He slowly closed his eyes, his body going limp. I stared for a few moments, half-heartedly expecting him to open his eyes again and say he was okay or to say it was all just an elaborate prank. But he never did.

A group of paramedics slowly pulled his body away from me, asking if I was okay or if I had any information on the body they'd just dragged away. I didn't reply though, I couldn't. Everything felt so cold. My best friend was dead.

The funeral was held a few weeks later, by the river on the outskirts of town. I walked by the school, seeing the wilting flowers of people who 'cared' though it was obvious they'd only cared for a day as there were no new flowers except for the ones I'd bring by each morning.

His mother wasn't there, no one else really was. He didn't have any other friends at school and his family had practically disowned them because of his mother's actions. I was the only one.

It was a nice little ceremony, the priest arrived for a few minutes, reading a prayer or two before leaving me alone. I told him about the past few weeks, telling him about last night's episode of EastEnders as if he was actually here. But he wasn't. I was talking to a piece of stone, ignorantly waiting for it to talk back.

I still think about him, I still call him my best friend because he still is, even if he isn't here. But I moved on with my life, moved out of this town. I'd write more but this isn't my story, it never was. I was simply a narrator, a witness. I don't know what went through his head that day, I don't know exactly what went on in his life. There were a lot of things I didn't know about Keegan Davidson but there was one thing I knew for sure, he didn't want to die that day... And he didn't deserve to either.

The end