I am the predator and he is the prey. It's almost painful to hear the fear, the pain, the desperate pleas, even the broken sobbing. But I'm used to it. The night recognizes me, becoming cold and silent as if it were hoping for life, life I rarely spare.
My hand notches the arrow even before I realize what I was doing. The forest floor is speckled with blood from my victim and still he stands, awaiting my next move. He doesn't know that my next move will end his life.
The shaft of the arrow pierces his back, the tip revealing itself on the other side. I feel the urge to throw up, but as always I resist it. This is my life, I remind myself. This is how I live.
0o0o0o0
His body is limp, stained with blood. I reach for the last bit of mercy I have left.
My fingernails gathered dirt as they slice through the layers of frozen soil. My arms are weak and I lift him onto my shoulder with what is left of my strength. His body is eerily light, more of a damp weight on my shoulder than a real person.
He falls to the makeshift tomb, glassy eyes open. As I cover him with leaves and mud, something falls on his cheek—water. I glance at the sky until I finally notice a tingling feeling at my chin. A tear? With a jolt, I realize it's my tear on his cheek. I haven't cried for so long…not since—
It doesn't matter any longer. This is my life, I remind myself again. This is how I live. Then I finish swathing his face with the leaves and get up. A small handful of purple flowers I'd found are buried with him. I left my best friend's body behind. With him, I left my tears.