James, James… JAMES

I could hear someone shouting my name, but my eyes held contact with the formerly colored baby blue rug, now painted red. The air was metallic, and my throat itched. I felt a tightness in my chest, and I realized I wasn’t breathing.

 “James!” My head swings to my left, and Marceline stares teary-eyed at me. Her eyes were her most beautiful asset. It's a mixture of bright green and light brown—mutation at its finest. In grade school, I met Marceline, or Marcy for short, at the same time I met Gale. He had always been odd; his parents were immigrants from Russia, and they made it quite obvious they were proud of their culture, and poor Gale suffered the consequences of that. Boys would taunt his accent and make fun of his meal, especially when he had borsch on cold days. Those cold days were exceptionally bad because Mr. and Mrs. Nikoli thought it would be a brilliant idea to give him the furriest, thickest, and mammoth-like shuba. Gale would waddle into class, his red nose peeking from underneath the array of scarves made from sheep wool, and his Eurocentric features would be pronounced. He reminded me of penguins; we were paired for a science project. He came over to my house and saw a Twenty-One pilot’s record, and it’s been love since then.

 "G... Gale" was the only thing I could mutter. My knees gave up, and I fell to the ground. The most heinous sound I heard was uttered from my lips. I couldn't process what my eyes were telling me; his rose-colored skin was pale, and his eyes lacked life. I caused this. If I had come over last night or told him how much I cherished our friendship or how I couldn’t navigate life without him, he would have known he was loved. I knew things had become hard at home with his parents filing for divorce, but he could have spoken to me.

My brain is searching for something, anything, but it’s blank. I reach out for Marceline, screaming and sobbing, gasping for air.

“It’s okay, James,” she says in between sobs.

It's not; a part of me has been stolen forever. I will never be whole again. What sort of wickedness is this? I curse a God I’ve never acknowledged. I am somehow calmed by Marceline and lay quietly on her thighs as I take in the room. Have the medics been here since? His parents are standing behind the teams as they carry Gale’s body out of the room. My eyes meet Mrs. Nikoli as she leaves with the others, and guilt runs through me. I look away shyly. Everyone leaves slowly, and Marceline has to babysit her cousins. I nod to her as she leaves and count to a hundred till the room is empty. I sit up with my back to the wall, embracing the emptiness that will walk with me.