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BETH GREENE HESITANTLY placed a rock that was supposed to represent Otis's grace - but there was no body, just a pile of rocks that was supposed to be his memory. Nathan Barton would rather have that instead of memory, too.
"Blessed be God. Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,"
A hand grabbed his own, and he turned to see Samantha Walsh, but she wasn't looking at him - she was looking at the grave, the same one that the soldier refused to look at.
"Praise be to him, for the gift of our brother Otis,"
Nathan met the dark, unmistakable eyes of Shane Walsh. Brown clashed with grey, but they didn't make other colors but only subliminal messages.
It had been the same look he had been giving his partner in crime for hours since they returned, every time Nathan looked like he was about to crack. It's our secret, his warnings read, don't tell.
Nathan hated funerals since he was a child, and believe it or not, he went to a lot of them in his short life. Many people died in his family, too many for his young age to comprehend. He couldn't understand why death took away. And when he did, when it was only him, his parents and his little brother left in their family, he finally understood why - and he grown to have a bitter hating against funerals.
This one was different however, it made him feel uneasy. It was very uncommon for a murderer to attend his victim's burial.
The woman that Nathan made a widower was next. Wetness trailed down her face and made it flushed, causing the demon of guilt to start eating him from the inside to out. He might've looked clean on the outside, but within he was so dirty.
As Patricia placed a rock onto the pile with shaky hands, a large figure suddenly appeared behind her. He wore a bloodied hat, the flesh on his face hanging off and the insides of his stomach completely exposed, bites completely engraving what's left of his skin.
Otis.
Nathan's breath hitched, images flashing through his head. He could still hear the screams, the growls, that one single gunshot that made his blood go cold, and then the sound of flesh being ripped a part. All he saw was blood, too much of it, it spilling in front of him and making the walls start closing in.
His skin burned from where Otis touched him, his ears ringing from his screams.
Samantha noticed everything, and gripped his hand tighter in her own. This brought him back to reality and he glanced down at his best friend with the pretty green of her eyes. She grew a genuine smile, and for a second he felt warmth spread through his body.
