"He got me into these," Tom smiled as he showed me his cigarette pack with golden lines on it. He was referring to Jaxon.
The park was just around the corner from the school, so we decided to walk and talk on our way there after school. I enjoyed the idea of walking and talking with Tom much better than sitting in Lucas' room playing a game I didn't even like.
"He smoked cigarettes more than he did weed. We had an inside joke about having so much weed laying around that we never smoked, we didn't know what to do with it," Tom laughed, I smiled.
Weed he probably got from Lola and Zoey. Tom probably knew about them.
The park was empty, as I guessed. It was cold and everything was wet, so we just sat on top of one of the benches underneath the sunroof.
"What'd his body look like?" Tom asked, his legs crossed as he faced me.
I did the same, watching him take another hit of his cigarette before handing it to me.
I've never smoked before, I don't want to embarrass myself by coughing up my lungs, so I shook my head.
What did his body look like? Should I lie?
Obviously. Not.
"Bad."
Tom laughed, "well, it wasn't suicide, right? Did someone stab him, or-... Shoot him in the head?"
He started his sentence quickly but he slowed down in the middle, probably realizing how hard it was to say those words.
He said they were best friends, I can't imagine knowing how to deal with my best friend mysteriously dying in the most haunted forest in our town.
If I even had a best friend to begin with. I've never had someone that close to me.
"You wouldn't believe me," I said slowly with an uncomfortable smile. I'm sure Tom didn't notice because I turned too fast. I hoped my hair hid my expression, my hair wasn't that long though.
"Want to know the truth? About everything that I know?"
I turned to Tom, now certain that he was able to tell I had a desperate expression on my face.
More than anything. More than anything I wanted to know the truth, about it all. What happened to him, how it happened, why it happened.
"The only reason I think his family killed him is because they had a big fight a week before Wednesday, the day he died. It was so bad apparently that they kicked him out, or that's what he told me," Tom said with a shrug, opening his cigarette pack again and grabbing another one.
My mom used to chain smoke when we had family gatherings. Usually it was just whenever she sat around talking a lot, telling stories. The cigarettes never ended, I hated that smell.
I was ignoring it.
"He lived in some old lady's shed. The last time I saw him was Saturday, he looked terrible. He was in a hurry to go somewhere, I don't remember where. I wish I did. I wish he told me about it. Anything about their fight."
Some old lady's shed, huh? So me running into the crazy old lady across town wasn't just a coincidence, she really was talking about Jaxon.
"His family hated him because... I guess he was just like the black sheep of his family," Tom said with a chuckle, bringing the cigarette back to his lips.
"That's why we got along so well. After my brothers moved out, my parents just... You know," he shrugged, I got the point.
The Walker's were powerful. They owned the entire town, it's easy to imagine how quickly they could cover up their own son's murder.
"So, what'd his body look like? Tell me, I'll believe you."
His tone was reassuring. I did feel comfortable enough about opening up about it. I just wasn't sure how to describe it.
"Well," I started off slow, "his skin was gray."
Tom nodded slowly, waiting for me to continue.
"And his veins... In his neck... Were purple," I said slowly, watching Tom intently, he only continued to nod, telling me to continue.
Deeply inhaling, I looked to the trees beside us. I didn't wanna look at him anymore.
"His eyes were gone."
There was a long painful silent pause, I still didn't look at him. From the corner of my eye I could see he didn't move the cigarette in his hand. I guess that news shocked him just as much as it did me.
"What do you mean gone?"
Please don't make me describe it.
"They were just-... They were just holes. I could see the table underneath his fucking head, dude, like... And they were black. And crusty. Like someone stuck a fucking pole on fire through them. And his head was hard and it was cold and it still freaks me out, because I can't fucking figure out how someone dies like that. How do you kill someone like that? What the hell... Happened to him?" I concluded with a laugh, only when the silence returned, I realized how insane I sounded.
I quickly glanced back at Tom, only maybe that was a mistake, because he looked away from me quickly.
He was crying.
"Sorry," he said quickly, I shook my head, but it didn't mean anything.
"No, you're fine. I'm sorry."
We sat in silence for a while, it started to gently rain again. Thankfully we were under a roof so Tom's cigarette didn't go out.
The conversation ended. Tom did know more than I did, but at the same time, we were both stuck in the same situation, the same thought roaming through our heads.
What killed Jaxon Walker?
