Goodbye, Old Friend.
One-shot.
He held his best friend firmly in his hand, the wind beginning to pick up around him. He looked down over the edge, at the black water below. It bubbled loudly, as if it was spitting out threats to swallow himself and his friend whole.
"This is it," he muttered. He never thought it would come to this; killing his own best friend and dumping him into the river that lies just a few miles north of town. But he ruined his life. It was his fault he had no family aymore. After they met, his whole world crumbled. His mind raced with memories of the times that he had betrayed him.
He had always told him to do bad things- almost as if he were there, whispering demands into his ear. He should never have listened to him in the first place, but it always seemed like a good idea at the time.
He took away his wife and unborn child. His parents trusted him less and less until they no longer talked, and their relationship with their son was reduced to nothing more then pathetic calls that consisted off begging for more money to live, and the occasional christmas card in the mail. He knew he would never be as close with his parents as he used to be. It made him depressed. They would have been grandparents.
The occasional car drove by him as he stood stalk-still on the bridge, doing nothing but stare at the water and reflect.
"You should have known I would give up on you eventually," he said, his grip tightening on his friend. Tears began to stream down his face. "What we had was not beautiful!" he cried suddenly, "the life that you took away was beautiful." He screamed in anger and tossed him into the water.
"Goodbye, old friend," he whispered, watching the bag of snow white powder drift down the river and out of his vision, blurred by his tears of relieved bliss. "You won't control me anymore."
"This is it," he muttered. He never thought it would come to this; killing his own best friend and dumping him into the river that lies just a few miles north of town. But he ruined his life. It was his fault he had no family aymore. After they met, his whole world crumbled. His mind raced with memories of the times that he had betrayed him.
He had always told him to do bad things- almost as if he were there, whispering demands into his ear. He should never have listened to him in the first place, but it always seemed like a good idea at the time.
He took away his wife and unborn child. His parents trusted him less and less until they no longer talked, and their relationship with their son was reduced to nothing more then pathetic calls that consisted off begging for more money to live, and the occasional christmas card in the mail. He knew he would never be as close with his parents as he used to be. It made him depressed. They would have been grandparents.
The occasional car drove by him as he stood stalk-still on the bridge, doing nothing but stare at the water and reflect.
"You should have known I would give up on you eventually," he said, his grip tightening on his friend. Tears began to stream down his face. "What we had was not beautiful!" he cried suddenly, "the life that you took away was beautiful." He screamed in anger and tossed him into the water.
"Goodbye, old friend," he whispered, watching the bag of snow white powder drift down the river and out of his vision, blurred by his tears of relieved bliss. "You won't control me anymore."