Don't Be Afraid To Ask

*34* Annie

I was scared as hell of this news.  I sensed something was wrong, but I forced myself to read the Instagram message.

Daria: Ania... New... New is dead.

Those few words broke my heart, took my breath away, tore from my lungs a cry of despair and suffering.  I fell to the floor right next to the wooden bench in my room.  There was no one else in the house but me.

— Nooooo!  No, nooooo! — I screamed.
I don't know why I did it, but I picked up my phone again, where Instagram was full of recordings from one event.

I saw a not-so-tall, skinny man of about 30 years old, hold a pistol out in front of him and point it at Zee.  New noticed it first and before anyone reacted, he rushed towards his beloved, pushed him, making him fall.  At the same time, there was a loud bang of a gunshot.  New froze, staggered, and fell squarely into Zee's arms.

People around started panicking and screaming, but the person filming it didn't stop the recording.  We still saw everything very clearly.  The image was of high quality.  New didn't move, his eyes wide open, there was a pitiful emptiness in them, and what had once been there and made him was gone forever, as if his soul had already left his useless body.

I felt it happened.  New was my soulmate, whatever happened to him happened to me.  We shared a lot of strong emotions and feelings, the condition was that they had to be very strong.  The moment it happened, my heart stopped for a second or five and my chest started to burn like wildfire.  I felt like I was dying, only I wasn't the one who died.  Then there was nothing, no pain, just emptiness, darkness, feeling like I was falling lower and lower and couldn't find a fulcrum.  I was gasping for breath, choking, choking on my own tears.  Looking at Zee's tears, at his wet face, hearing his heart-rending scream, I myself began to scream out loud our pain.

I loved NuNew with all my heart, he was my brother, my twin soul, a piece of me that I had searched for so long and now lost.

I looked at the description of the post on Zee's profile.  I knew he hadn't written it, something told me he wouldn't have had the strength to do it.

“New Chawarin Perdpiriyawong, my beloved, my boyfriend and best friend, passed away at 4:26 pm today from a gunshot wound.  The only consolation is that he didn't suffer, he left right away.  My Angel, you left so suddenly and left a void that I will never be able to fill, you took a big piece of me with you, but I know that you are now where you belong among the Angels.  I know you did it because you wanted to protect me.  You were a hero to the very end.  I wish I could turn back time, freeze it in the moment when we were so happy together.  I love you Nu, I love you with all my heart, sleep well baby.  I promise I will find you."

His instaStories post was more disturbing.  In the background was the blurred outline of a gun, next to a gold-framed photo and a bottle of what looked like alcohol.  The caption was in English and read: "I don't want to live a day without you my Angel @new_cwr."

When I saw that the post had been added just 20 seconds earlier, I immediately closed Instagram and called Max.

—Max, wherever you are and whatever you're doing, drop it and go to Zee's house, I have a bad feeling — I ordered without any introduction or greeting.

—Why?  What's happening?

—See on his Instagram.  Just go to him, I may not be on time.

— Okay, I'm going.

I hung up and ran out of the room in search of Perth.  Luckily, he wasn't far away, standing by the hob, talking to someone on the phone.  I took the phone from his hand, apologized to the person he was talking to and hung up the call.