It’s suffocating.
For a second, I just sit there, hands still gripping the handlebars, helmet pressing down on me.
My chest feels tight, a twinge starting somewhere.
From everything I’ve been trying not to feel.
I rip the helmet off, dragging in a deep breath but it doesn’t help. It feels like something’s pressing in on my chest no matter what I do. The air is cool, carrying the faint scent of dry earth, like the fresh soil they dug up.
The hole they made for Tex to go in.
I swing off the bike, boots crunching against gravel as I shove a hand through my hair. My fingers snag, pulling harder than necessary.
“Fuck.”
I place my helmet down and pull off my jacket, tossing it over the seat.
I walk towards the edge.
There’s nowhere for the energy to go. It just buzzes under my skin. I drag both hands over my face, pressing hard like I can shove it all back, lock it down where it belongs.
My jaw clenches so hard it aches.
A harsh breath leaves me as I look out. The city stretches out below.Lights begin to flicker on as the sun dips lower. It’s the kind of peaceful view I come up here for, it usually calms me.
But it’s not enough.
I step closer to the edge, letting out a guttural yell. I yell until I can’t anymore. Until the weight lifts slightly.
Tex is dead.
The words feel wrong. Too simple for an event that’s ripped this wide of a hole through everything and everyone. I still expect to hear his footsteps behind me. Sitting in his space at our table every day. He survived so much. Just to be taken down by fucking Daniel.
Daniel.
Fucking scum.
My hands curl into fists.
I back away from the edge, pacing. I need something to hit,to break. The energy under my skin is clawing it’s way out.
But there’s nothing to break.
I kneel down and drive my fist straight into the ground.
Pain shoots up my arm. The thud of the ground is unsatisfying. I suck in a breath through my teeth.
It helps, barely.
I rest my fist against my forehead, eyes squeezing shut.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to no one. “I don’t know how to do this without you, man. It doesn’t feel right.” I admit under my breath.
It feels stupid, talking to someone who’s not here anymore.
But what else can I do?
I stay there for a long time, trying to figure out how the hell we’re supposed to move forward from this. Eventually, I drag a hand down my face and straighten.
