I've just read Of mice and men for school and this is what happened...(no flames please) :)
George spent the entire night drinking.
From the moment the sun sank below the jagged line of the horizon, and then rose again the next morning with its blistering hot blaze, the glass of strong liquor never seemed to remove itself from George's chapped and bleeding lips. Alcohol usually helped to numb the ache, though George had never felt an ache quite as bad as that one, but this time the woozy, fuzzy feeling that came from being drunk didn't help at all.
It was as if a small, yet vital piece of George had died right there alongside Lennie. That piece of George was gone and the puzzle that made up everything he ever could be was broken. A part of him was cold and dead and non-feeling and yet, in the most horrible sense, it still hurt.
It hurt so much. In one afternoon, he'd lost everything. Everyone. Though there was always only one person George truly gave a damn about and he'd raised a Luger to the back of his head and pulled the trigger. Lennie was a pure soul. He knew nothing of the hate and the rage that lingered in the world, of the terrible people that breathed its air. Lennie was innocent, the kind of person who only saw the good in the darkest of the people, the people who had no redeemable qualities at all.
But it was more than that, Lennie was his friend, his best friend, perhaps the only one he'd ever actually known. He was like a little brother, a son, someone who needed George, someone who protected George, someone who loved him.
No one had ever loved George quite like Lennie had.
His mother hated all that breathed. She was a wicked woman with sharp eyes and a sharp tongue and tiny, yellow teeth and she enjoyed the pain she could inflict upon a person just be looking at them. She basked in the power and the fear she demanded of all those who knew her, especially George.
His father was a nobody, a loner passing through. And that was all there was too it.
And now Lennie was dead and George was alone in the world and suddenly, everything seemed so much darker, so much colder and so much worse.
The birds no longer sang on a sunny Californian morning, they cried with all the pain and hate the world had to offer. The wind wasn't warm, it was bitter and cut through the many layers George had built up over the years and tore at his blackened soul. The laughter of children lounging amongst the sickly yellow grass wasn't blessed or calming, it was raw and it tormented George because he could never smile like that.
He wasn't sure if he had before, but he knew that he would never be able to forget what he had done that warm afternoon. The moment he pulled that trigger was forever in his mind, haunting his nightmares, engraved in his bones. He'd always remember the dead weight of the gun in his hands, the long shadows that streaked across the ground, the slight glittering of the river and the way Lennie slumped forward and lay completely still like he'd never been alive at all.
George wouldn't ever forget.
He didn't deserve to.
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