Author's Note: Just an idea I've been wanting to implement.

Your feedback is very important to me, so feel free to provide any comments!

Thank you!

Chapter 1: Smothering The Fire

They were all gone, dead. They were burned and damned with the Wendigos forever.

Never again will I get to see their smiles. Never again will I get to hear their laughs and relive the gleeful moments we have spent together before that night. My last memory of them are the blood and the fear in their eyes, their agonizing screams as the lodge blew up right in front of my eyes.

I am no hero, but I do know I failed my mission that night. I failed at one of the few things I care about: protecting people. That night, I have failed to save my friends who I considered family. I have lost the one and only person with whom I wished to spend the rest of my life. I have lost everything that was dear to me. And along the way, I have completely lost myself to someone or something that I didn't recognize.

People kept telling me that it wasn't my fault, that I couldn't do anything about it. Part of me wanted to believe them, yet I have never been able to fully erase the guilt. Since I was the only one left alive, I felt like I just had to bear the responsibility for their death. You know, for the sake of Mike and Sam, who sacrificed themselves. For the sake of Ashley… it still hurts just to mention her name.

For the sake of Jess, Emily and Matt; for the horrors they had to endure in the mines, all while I was being a coward.

For Josh… I can't say I'm holding a grudge against him, I don't think I ever did. Despite being an asshole that night, he was still my best friend, my closest confident. In my heart, he was still the good old Josh who called me Cochise.

I had the chance to escape just in time before this damned lodge blew up. I threw myself in the snow, gasping for air. I was injured, near a mental breakdown, yet I could only think of my friends' safety. Did they also make it? What about Ashley? I was only hoping to see anybody emerging and running for their life, but nobody came. Then I felt a wave of hot air against my face. It took me a while to assess what was happening… my mind was blank, void of any thoughts. It was only a few minutes after I then realized that I just lost my friends.

Rays of sunlight gradually appeared, marking the end of the night and the beginning of dawn. All of this to wait until dawn… The sunlight burned my eyes, my skin. It burned my soul along with all remaining hope I had. I almost wished it would have burned me to death, dragging me into eternal darkness; then I could be with them again.

When the rescue team came to get me, I wouldn't stand up. I just couldn't because my legs wouldn't budge. I was staring into a void, nowhere in particular. As I was pulled in the helicopter, they were asking me questions but I wasn't hearing them. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the burning lodge slowly shrinking and disappearing within the mountain. Part of me was ripped apart and burned.

Then we arrived to the interrogation room. I was asked stupid and meaningless questions about that flamethrower guy, my friends and what happened to Josh… Honestly, I couldn't give a shit about them. They wouldn't believe me anyway! I also despised the fact that they remained completely skeptical about the Wendigos. All my friends died on this damned mountain and all they could do was doubt my claims, my words. And they dared to suspect my deceased friends of murder? I wanted to rip their faces off, tear their heads apart… just like a Wendigo.

Anyway, this was all useless. Life is useless. In some ways, life itself has no true purpose. It's just an endless cycle. And if you get lucky enough, you'll get the easy path.

After the interrogation, I went back in town to see my family. As soon as they saw me, my parents immediately embraced me. I could sense the panic and relief reflecting in their actions and intonation. The attention I got made me feel slightly better, but it wasn't enough; nothing could fill the void inside of me. I still wouldn't answer any of their questions and it obviously worried them. Even after a while I would just sulk in my room, refusing to meet anyone. Not even Ashley's family, who requested to talk to me personally. This was particularly painful and I didn't think I could handle that. I actually found out a bit later, from over-hearing things, that they knew about the relationship between Ashley and me… through her personal diary. I think they wanted to give it to me, but I wasn't ready mentally.

My mental condition worsened as days went by. I hardly found any passion in anything. I couldn't study, I didn't have any motivation to pursue the app project I started working on a while before. I laid most of my days in bed, watching comedy on Netflix, hoping it would change the mood and cheer me up. But nothing could heal me. Nothing could hold the pain I felt. The memories haunted me and I could still hear their cries. My dreams were only nightmares. Sometimes it would start positive but it would mostly end up with everyone being torn apart, blood spreading everywhere, splattering on my face... I could hear Ashley's screams, pleading me to save her.

Some have told me just to forget about it. How is that even possible? That even sounds harsh.

My family has paid for a psychiatrist to help me deal with PTSD. Maybe that helped, but I couldn't notice any sign of improvement. What have I done for all of this to happen. What have done wrong? Who would have thought I would lose the love of my life, my friends, my hope… and my life, to the butterfly effect?

While my mental state was decaying, my physical condition wasn't improving either. I couldn't eat and nearly became anorexic. I didn't take care of myself anymore and grew a neglected beard. I didn't see any more reason to continue and force myself.

For the first time, the pressure of the gun, this time not filled with blanks, felt good against my chin. I found some comfort into it but never pulled the trigger. I have tried to kill myself a few times but it has never worked. Whenever I would almost pull the trigger, they were there, pinning me to the ground and yelling at me with sorrow. I have tried to injure myself… but they hid the gun, the knives and the saws. They forced me to heal when I clearly couldn't.

I fought against them. I think I even punched my therapist, cursing endlessly. I didn't recognize myself anymore. There happened a time where they even put me in a mental illness center, to keep me under control for a while. Back then I didn't get why. I didn't want to live anymore. What was the point in keeping me alive?

Then one day I was finally allowed to go outside. And I saw this bridge. This very very high bridge. Then I thought, why not? I ran to the edge and took a deep breath. This could finally be all over. I jumped.

Then I fell into darkness.