To Die For

Cain unlocked the front door of Ares's house. He went in and looked around. He sighed in defeat. It had been a year since she had died. Died defending him.

"Don't be stupid," he told himself. "She would've died anyway, she was supposed to meet him three days after that anyway."

"But she might not have died," he replied to himself. "She's smart, she would have thought of a way to talk herself out of it. She just didn't want to do it with me there because she was afraid I would get hurt."

He repeated this argument with himself often. He saw both sides of the argument, but he knew that in his heart, he would always blame himself for her death.

He looked around the house again. It was his house now. Ares had apparently made a will sometime after the house came into her possession and had left the house to him. He still couldn't believe it.

He had only moved into the house a month ago though. He hadn't moved in until his arm was healed and his cast had come off. He couldn't have functioned in a house by himself with a full arm cast on. Not with that and the depression.

Yes, he was clinically depressed. He didn't like talking about it, although in some part of his mind, he supposed that it was perfectly natural to become depressed after watching your best friend get shot and die in front of you.

It was a constant struggle for him to even care about anything anymore. Ares had been his light, the one constant in his life no matter what else had changed. He couldn't just "get over it" as so many people told him to do. It was like losing his sun and being left in total darkness.

Cain sighed again and began to make his way upstairs. He went through to his room, but paused at the door to what had been Ares's room when she had stayed here with her mother. He hadn't been in this room, ever. He'd never spent much time in Ares's house when she was living here, certainly not in her room. And ever since he had been living here, he just couldn't bring himself to go in the room.

"Just do it," he told himself. "You're being a big wimp. Maybe it'll help you except it and start to help you get over it."

He knew that it wouldn't, but he also knew that if Ares was here, she would be laughing at him for being such a chicken.

"What are you so scared of?" he could almost hear her say. "Stop being a wuss. It's just a room, there's nothing in it that means anything."

"Just do it," he thought to himself. "Just do it."

He opened the door.

The room was lie a guest room. Sparse decorating, as little as possible left in it. It was almost like no one had ever lived in this room, only visited it.

"We'll that's basically what she did," he said. "She visited it to sleep and the hightailed it out if here as fast as she could so she wouldn't have to spend more time here."

The room didn't bring back any painful memories for him, so he decided he had been unnecessarily afraid and turned to leave. When he turned he saw that the closet door was slightly ajar.

"That's odd," he thought to himself. "Why would the door be open?"

He went over to the door and opened it to look inside. There was nothing remarkable about it. It was empty, like the rest of the room. He didn't understand why the door would have been left open. Then he saw a box laying in the corner. A box that looked rather like a music box. A box with an inscription on the cover.

He picked up the box. From underneath fell a card. He picked it up and read it.

It read:
"A very merry unbirthday to you
-Ari"

Cain sat down. He knew this would take courage to open. And yet, it would be cowardly to not open the last thing she had gotten for him.

He opened the box. Inside lay a 9 millimeter pistol and a cartridge of ammo. The box was made as a showbox. The lining of the box was designed to perfectly fit the shape of the gun.

Cain couldn't handle it anymore. It was almost like Ares had known what would happen, that she would die and he would end up like this. He broke down crying. He let out all of the sorrow and anger he had been holding in for the last year. Even the betrayal he was feeling to some point.

When he finally had cried himself dry, he was exhausted. Exhausted in more ways than one. He was exhausted in the way that he needed sleep, yes, but he was also exhausted of life. He didn't want to live anymore.

He looked inside the box again. He knew what he was going to do. It was the only thing he could do. He couldn't go on without her anymore, not like this.

He picked up the gun and cradled it lovingly. He flicked the safety off and put the gun to his temple. He shut the box and looked at the inscription on the front again. The inscription that Ares had had put on that box specially for him, just days before she had died.

Til death do us part.

-Bang-