"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't you." These words echo through a young boys head endless. The lies he's heard constantly for the last several days. He wonders if they believe any of that, or if they just want to make him feel better.
The boy sat alone in the grass, it was the middle of the day. He stared at a headstone in front of where he sat. Tears rolled out of the boys eyes. Eyes of green filled with pain, hurt, and guilt far past what a boy of his age should know or feel. As much as he wished it would, no amount of tears could wash out the weight he felt in his chest. Tugging on her black suit jacket he mumbled through his tears, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, so, so, so, sorry, Dill..." he trailed off at the name. It had only been a few days since it had happened, since he had lost his best friend. The service, the burial, all had happened only a matter of hours ago. He now was the only one left still out in the rain.He'd told everyone he needed to be alone, and for the first time in days they'd allowed him to, while the rain droplets mixed with the tears on his face. In the time that had passed he could still feel the warm blood on his hands, moist but thicker than the tears and rain soaking the rest of him. His mumbles started again, over and over 'I'm sorry' echoed. Reaching down he pulled an iPod from one pocket and pressed 'play' having set the song earlier that day. A familiar tune played, the boy hummed along as the words "You've got a friend in  me played over his tears. He felt a strangled laugh leave his lips as he was flooded with memories surrounding the song. Him dressed as Woody his best friend as Buzz Lightyear while the scent of cookies baking came from the kitchen. "This was always your favorite song,"the boy directing the words to the stone in front of him. A large sob was heard after her spoke along with the lyrics 'Our friendship will never die'.  Eventually the sobs calmed and he began to speak again, "You know, I keep hoping I'll just wake up, that all of this was a bad dream. That I could walk next door and you'd still be there, instead of just your empty room with all your things how you left them, expect your stuffed Chewbaka, I have him in my room now, I hope you don't you mind a took him, it just is-"he was cut off by a sob. Through pained cries he kept talking,"I remember when we met. You'd just moved into the neighborhood and it was the first day of Kindergarten. You were shy, sitting by yourself, so I went and sat with you. We played with legos the rest of the day and talked. Ever since then you've just, just, meant SO much to me. I-I can't believe any of this happened. T-that it's my fault." He buried his face in his hands and let out another sob, his hands not seeming to muffle it much. His next words were impossible understand and sounded more like noising coming out of a deflating balloon, although they were once again,'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This is all my fault I'm sorry!" Then once again he felt the haunting ghost of moister on his hands, warmer than tear or the icy rain, thick blood. His cries would not soon stop...