"Hey, Buddy"

"Hey, Buddy"

It was empty when Hoth entered. The nave of the church was speckled with color from the stained-glass windows. At the center of the transept was a coffin, surrounded by purple and white lily flowers, with a large painting framed above it. The painting grew more distinct as he approached; that didn't matter though, Hoth already knew who it was of.

"Hey Buddy," Hoth said. He kept his head low, avoiding the picture's eyes while twiddling a lifeless poppy between his thumb and index finger. "Brought the wrong flower."

He chuckled lightly to himself. Placing it among the sea of lilies, he couldn't help but cringe at how much it stood out. "Sorry about that."

Hoth stood there, awkwardly kicking the flooring like a schoolboy in time out. He wasn't quite sure what to say; wasn't quite sure if there was anything to say. He took this time to study the coffin. It was made of a polished mahogany wood, with a golden cross inscribed into its crown. He realized how bizarre it was for Buddy's memorial to be here, at the church: he had never been a religious person, despised it if anything. Hoth reckoned Buddy's parents chose the place: both of them were God-fearing. He noticed on the front side of the coffin was a silver plate, which read:

"In Loving Memory of

BUDDY MCHOFFER

May You Live Peacefully in Heaven and Your Death be Avenged".

He read the last line once more, sighed and turned away.

"You don't want me here, do you?" Hoth turned and walked away. "I'll leave."

But as he walked, he felt something. Eyes, staring right at him. He was being watched. He peered around before finally looking back to the painting. For the first time, he made eye contact with the picture.While Buddy smiled wide, his eyes were different. They stared at Hoth knowingly, accusatorially.

"It's not my fault." He could barely hear himself speak. "You can't blame this on me."

But Buddy continued to stare; continued to judge him and look at him with disgust. Images flashed through Hoth's mind, images of the last time he saw those eyes: at the river bay, on the isolated dock, in the bloodied water. Without warning, his legs collapsed under him; they had been shaking, but he was too distracted to notice. Hoth now had to crane his neck to look at Buddy.

"You were going to tell." His voice turned raspy, as if he spoke without breathing first. "It was either me or you. They would have killed me." Warmth fell down his right cheek.

"But you just wanted out." He drew a bronze locket from inside his shirt, its lid rusty. Inside was a family photo: a distant mother with her two little girls.

"They would have taken them from me."

Hoth dabbed his face with his sleeve before standing back up on wobbly legs.

"I'm leaving." He said, snatching his poppy flower from beside the coffin and limping back down the nave. Above the doors to the foyer was a mosaic, one he hadn't noticed before. It depicted a version of Jesus Christ, holding a bible in his left hand and making the sign of blessing with the other. The Savior watched him stumble down to the portal, his seemingly loving eyes trailing him.

Why?

Hoth stopped again and listened. He heard something. He knew he heard something. But Hoth didn't care. He just wanted to get away.

Why?

He just needed to get away. To leave the church and it would all be over.

Why?

So close to the double doors. He could hear the faint sounds of children playing and the clicks of horseshoes.

Please no more.

The center of his vision grew fuzzy, the ends of his fingers became prickly.

Why are you doing this?

But he couldn't go further. The voices were overbearing.

Please just give me another chance.

Don't do this.

God, no no no no.

The voices were desperate. They were fearful. They were defenseless.

*Cough cough*.

H-help me.

Tell Mandy I'm sorry.

*Splash*.

Hoth stopped and stood in the middle of the narthex, the remnants of the voices echoing in his head. He could still feel Buddy's gaze on the back of his head, burning into him a sensation of guilt. An unbearable guilt. A guilt he needed to make stop. Slowly, his feet turned: taking tiny baby steps until he was facing Buddy once again. His legs began forwards. First at a walk. Then a jog. Then a sprint. The colored reflection of the stained glass rapidly flashed on his face as he ran down the nave, full stride. Despite having been lifeless just moments before, his legs felt strong, energetic. Hoth vaulted over the coffin and tackled Buddy. He heard a muted tear when they hit the ground. Hoth had tumbled on to his side, finding himself hugged into a fetal position, gasping desperately for air. His ribs hurt to the touch. To the left of him he found Buddy. His picture was ripped, so that everything above mouth-level was unrecognizable. Destroyed.

"God, what have I done?"

…

He didn't want to get up, but he had to. The light outside was turning orange, and he was to be home before sunset. He unfolded himself, however, with a start. The coffin was open. Using his hands to lift himself off the ground, Hoth approached, taking small and cautious steps. He figured the lid had popped off when he barreled over it. A morbid curiosity overcame him, it felt as if the coffin was calling to him, alluring him to come and take a peek at what was inside. And Hoth did just that.

Inside was a figure you could barely call human. Its skin was gray and bloated; veins popped heavily from its arm. Despite this, it was dressed in a stylish tuxedo. Looked like one Buddy would really like. Hoth's eyes traced up to its face, which was covered by a pastel white handkerchief. It had been a long while since he saw Buddy's face in person. A long while. He lifted a corner of the napkin with his thumb and index fingers, slowly revealing each tiny detail of the face. He quickly dropped the cloth and stepped back. Hoth thought it was tradition to close the eyes of the dead. Buddy had the same look in his eyes as that night.

Bang!

He turned to look down the left transept. A girl, with glasses and tightly pulled back hair, was staring right at him through the church windows, mouth gaped. Once they made eye contact, she quickly reached down to pick her textbook off the ground, then ran. For a short moment, Hoth was numb. He simply stared out the window. Reaching into his shirt, he grabbed and held his locket tight.

"If word gets out."

Hiding the chain back under his shirt, Hoth ran after her.