They said that they would erect a golden statue. And they did. Not that a statue is any good when compared to the living youth who no longer live. And in a way, standing before that dazzling monument makes the loss of my cousin even worse. There he is, standing immortalized in gold, next to his true love. A love I had no clue was his until it was too late.

Six people. I didn't know them all, of course. But to lose my cousin's friend- who was my friend to, or maybe more, I don't know; it's too late now anyway- one day and have my cousin exiled, then my aunt die of grief, and then to find that my cousin was gone too- along with a lady from the house that was supposed to be the enemy- it was too much to comprehend. In the span of a week my life changed. I am no longer the cheerful teen I used to be. If I could go back and do it over again, I'd refrain from telling Romeo to get over himself and find some other girl. For it was because of the girl he found that he's dead, and she is too. A lot of good my advice did him.

Maybe if it hadn't been for that very first death, then none of the others would have followed. It first occurred to me while the Prince was interrogating me, as he had interrogated all who were involved in some way. He found me innocent; lacking a hand in the tragedy. Maybe I was, but that doesn't prevent me from feeling guilty. He still doesn't know exactly how that fight on the streets of Verona really started, and I don't think he ever needs to know. All I know is that if it weren't for the casualties of that fight, everything would be so much better now. In fact, now I'm certain that the first death was the event that started the chain reaction and lead to five more like it. Oh, had it not been for that dear fool's recklessness, despite my warnings…

It's been five years since the tragic tale of the star-crossed lovers did unfurl. Now our houses are living in peace. But is it worth it? Of course not! We've all lost so many. There was a deep sadness in the Prince's eyes as he interrogated me, for even he had lost two family members- one of whom was also my friend. If I could change it all back, I would in a heartbeat.

What if I could?

As I stand before the statue now, rage burning in my chest because if it weren't for that Capulet girl then none of this would have happened, a man approaches me. He's wearing a friar's robes and I recognize him as Laurence, the man who married Romeo and Juliet.

I scuff my sandals in the dirt awkwardly as he comes to a stop beside me. I stare at the dirt. I don't know this man- I was never really the type to consult with friars- but my cousin did, and now is he expecting me to talk to him; to cry into his arms because I'm hurting so badly? I hope not, because again, I don't know him, and I don't really care to talk about the most woeful tale that everyone else in Verona hasn't been able to shut up about for the past five years.

Friar Laurence says nothing. But I can feel him staring at me, and it makes the back of my neck prickle. I can't stand the feeling of him staring at me- no doubt with pity- so I finally mutter a greeting to him. "Good morning, Friar."

"Do you think this morning is a good one?" he replies, the warmth in his baggy old eyes making me uncomfortable. How can he look so at peace? "If so, I'm glad; you have lived in a state of sadness for long enough."

"I just said good morning," I grumble. "Don't overanalyze it."

The truth is, I'm still living in that state of sadness. Call me soft for holding bitterly on for five years, but I just can't let go of the senseless tragedy of it all. Why couldn't I have been one of the dead? Nobody would miss me that much, surely. Maybe it would be better if I were to die tomorrow, or even today. A dagger seems a great alternative to however many more years of sadness and regret.

Friar Laurence claps me on the back. "I know you've heard this before, Benvolio, but I really do think you've held on too long to the past. There was never anything you could have done for your cousin."

He's right; I have heard it before, too many times. Romeo made his own decisions. He didn't have to drink the poison. He was just a foolish fifteen-year-old boy who thought he was in love. He'd be nearly twenty now, if he were still alive, as I am now. But it feels like I should be as old as Laurence here. Now I really understand what Romeo meant when he said that sad hours passed slowly.

But I don't tell him any of this. I can't tell any of it to anyone. They'd just call me too emotional, or say that I'm overthinking it. There's nothing I could have done, they'd all say, as they've said a thousand times already. It's not your fault. Well, maybe it wasn't my fault, but I still feel that I should have been able to do something to prevent it.

"You're right, Holy Father," I say, forcing a smile. "I need to move on."

"Please, boy, just 'Laurence'," he sighs. "You know I stripped myself of my title long ago."

That's right- I forgot that he isn't a Friar anymore. In fact, now that I think about it, it's been nearly five years since I've even seen him, apart from that time I went up to Mantua to visit some relatives. I rub my temples; there's really something wrong with me if I can just forget something so obvious.

"That's right; you haven't been living in Verona for a while, have you?" I groan, embarrassed at my utter failure to remember such a detail. "Er, how have you been?"

Laurence chuckles. "I was wondering when you were going to remember that. I'm worried about you, Benvolio," he adds more seriously. "I saw some signs of it before I exiled myself, but I never suspected your grief would drag on this long. You need some help."

"Why did you leave again?" I ask, pointedly ignoring his concern. I don't need any help. "Didn't the Prince decide you were innocent?"

"He did," Laurence sighs, "but I know better. Simply being a servant of God should not have excused the role I played. There were so many things I could have done differently."

To my surprise, he sits down on a boulder and goes into a long and rambling tangent, explaining all the things he could have done to prevent the deaths of Romeo and Juliet- never marrying them in the first place, finding some other plan for Juliet to escape marrying Paris, delivering Romeo's letter himself, or at least giving the task to a Friar other than John- not that he could have known about the quarantine- getting to the tomb a bit faster… his list goes on and on. I don't understand how he can feel so responsible and yet go on with his life, while I, who everybody tells me couldn't have done anything, am mentally stuck five years in the past, replaying the same scenarios inside my head and wondering if there was any way I could have stopped the tragedy.

Once he has finally finished his spiel, he stands up as though about to leave.

"Wait," I tell him. "I have another question for you." He stops, raising his eyebrows as if to say, "go on…" I clear my throat and ask, "I was just wondering, sir… what brings you back here to Verona?"

"I was hoping you'd ask that." Laurence has a faint twinkle in his eye. He reaches into his robe pocket and brings out a tiny pouch. Leaves poke out from the top. "There is something I have been working on in my self-imposed exile. I never believed I could do it, but I'm beginning to think I may have done it at last."

"What is it?" It just looks like a sack of plants to me. "Some kind of medicinal herbs?"

"Could any herb compare to the capabilities of this concoction?" he murmurs, drawing his finger across the sharp edge of a mint leaf. "And if I am not mistaken, the very last ingredient lies right here in Verona: somebody willing to test this creation."

I find myself reaching out for the herb pouch before I stop myself and ask myself what I'm thinking. "Test it how?" I ask, as though there are multiple ways to test a potion.

"I am old, and I know not what affects this would have on me," Laurence explains. "I require someone young to drink it. Are you up for that task?"

I gulp. It's probably some horrible new poison. The thought sneaks into my head and I shudder. I won't be turning that into a drink, no matter what he says! I should drink it. I half-expected that thought, but I push it to the back of my mind, in the dark recesses where I keep all the things I never say and have convinced myself to forget I ever thought or felt. If it is poisonous- which surely it is, because what else could it be? – then why would I drink it? Unless, of course, I wanted to die…

A long shiver passes down through my spine. Do I want to die? I mean, really want to die? The thought seems almost appealing right now, but surely there must be something still here in Verona that I have to live for. But what?

My parents? Sure, but would they really miss me that much? Friends? Romeo and Mercutio were my best friends, and I don't have them anymore. I haven't for five years…

My life?

How good a life can it be when I always hurt so much, and when I never really want to get up in the mornings? How much can such an empty life be worth?

"What will this concoction do exactly, Friar- sorry, ex-friar-?"

"It will lend you the ability to do what I suspect you have been dreaming to be able to do for these past five years," he promises me. "It shall offer you an escape from this wretched state that you have been trapped in, and if successful, the life you lead now shall cease to exist altogether."

That sounds like a poison, all right. I feel insane to be doing this, but I reach out and take the herb pouch and draw it open. Inside, there are plants of every sort all in a jumbled mess. In places where they've been blended into a pulp, a faint glow seems to be emanating from the unholy mixture. The flecks of gold have sunk into the jumble of herbs, and the earth from the statue's base has dissolved into the mix altogether.

"I'll test this new drug of yours," I murmur.

Laurence smiles. "You won't regret this, Benvolio. It shall give you what you've been seeking." He pats my hands, which I wonder if he notices are trembling. "Soak the leaves in water and their power will be spread throughout," he continues. "I recommend that you don some measure of disguise before consumption."

I don't understand why I'd need to do that. Maybe it's not poison, then? But what else could it be? I nod, and stare down, transfixed, at the herb pouch for longer than I realized, for when I look up again Laurence has left.

"It shall give me what I've been seeking," I whisper, and suddenly I realize that at least that much is true. I wipe away tears that I didn't know were falling. "I will consume these cursed contents tonight."

For whatever affect they might have, I will gladly welcome it.