𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 | 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 ✔️

↞ fourteen

train tracks
{olivia's pov}

the five of us were walking on the train tracks again, a few feet away from the royal river. as we kept walking, i got more frightened to actually see the dead body of ray brower.

"coming through the woods, i bet we saved over an hour," chris stated. we stopped.

"teddy? liv?" gordie said suddenly.

"yeah?" teddy responded.

"is this the back harlow road?" we all looked ahead.

"yeah," teddy and i responded in unison. my heart slowly sank as i remembered the past memories coming here when i was only nine with teddy and his father. and now, there was a dead kid lying around somewhere near.

"the brower kid must be around here someplace," chris said, looking around from where he was standing. gordie began walking ahead. "teddy, you and vern watch the left side of the tracks. we'll take the right." the two boys walked to the left side, as chris and i followed behind gordie. we followed the tracks, scavenging for the dead kid.

"there he is! i see him! look," vern shouted, pointing at the body that was underneath a bunch of leaves from a bush. we all rushed over by vern's side. "look over there! i see him!" none of us could breathe as we saw the kid's feet. somewhere under those bushes was the rest of ray brower. chris pushed us aside and ran over to the lifeless body, the rest of us following quickly behind.

the train had knocked ray brower out of his kids just like it had knocked the life out of his body. the kid wasn't sick. the kid wasn't sleeping. the kid was dead. chris got a twig and lifted a branch from the bush, lifting the leaves off of the boy's face. my eyes immediately began tearing up as i gasped, covering my mouth with one of my hands. before i could collapse on the ground, chris had caught me. the dead body right before me reminded me of my dead parents.

"hey, it's alright. you'll be ok," he said, pulling me into a hug as he still stared at the boy.

the boys didn't move as they kept staring at the kid. we didn't know what to feel. i pulled away from chris's grip and glanced at the boy once more. he had dry blood and scars on his face and neck. i've never seen someone's eyes look so empty.

"let's look for some long branches. we'll build him a stretcher," chris suggested. the boys started walking towards the trees and bushes to gather branches. gordie and i didn't. gordie sat on the nearest log and i sat next to him, putting my hand on his shoulder. he stared at the kid that lied in front of us. i refused to look at him though. i couldn't.

"gordie?" chris said, looking at us. we exchanged glances because gordie never looked up or said anything until a few seconds later.

"why did you have to die?" gordie asked, talking to ray brower.

"what's the matter with gordie?" vern asked curiously, obviously worried about his friend.

"nothing. why don't you guys just go over there and look for some branches, ok?" chris said. they nodded in understanding and walked away from the three of us. chris sat on the other side of gordie, looking at him.

"why did he have to die, guys? why did denny have to die?" gordie asked, his voice cracking the slightest bit. i frowned.

"i don't know," chris responded in his gentle tone.

"it should've been me," gordie whispered.

"don't say that," i said softly, rubbing my thumb against his shoulder.

"it should've been me," gordie repeated.

"don't say that, man," chris said without breaking eye contact with gordie, who refused to look at anyone but the kid.

"no good. my dad said it. i'm no good," gordie said, fighting the urge of sobbing.

"he doesn't know you," chris said quietly.

"he hates me."

"he doesn't hate you."

"he hates me," gordie said, finally beginning to cry. just then, i wanted to cry too seeing gordie's current mental state. my eyes began to become glossy with tears, but i refused to let them escape.

"no! he just doesn't know you," chris demanded, attempting to convince his best friend that his own father didn't hate him.

"he hates me. my dad hates me," he said, letting the tears fall down his cheeks. "i'm no good." chris put his arm around his shoulder as i moved my hand down to gordie's. i rubbed my thumb against the back of his hand, looking at chris. he looked back at me for a split second, then looked back to gordie.

"you're gonna be a great writer someday, gordie. you might even write about us if you ever get hard up for material," chris said, glancing at me again. i smiled a tearful grin, leaning my head on gordie's shoulder. gordie rubbed his eyes.

"guess i have to be pretty hard up, huh?" gordie asked quietly. chris chuckled.

"yeah."

"what the fuck do you know about this?" a familiar but awful voice said. gordie, chris, and i jumped and looked up abruptly. it was the dickhead who took gordie's hat. ace merrill.