Easy
It was easy to let it happen.
Easy to ship off, for him to be another country's problem.
Easy to arrange for him to be alienated. He was half way there already. PTSD, depression- a myriad of untouchable wounds that ached, burned, and itched (Some half healed. Some still fresh).
Just like how it was easy to go unnoticed, his fears, loneliness, self-hatred .All hidden under a thin skin of a smile (No one looked too hard).
So when one day the boy caught wind of a drug operation nearby, it wasn't surprising that he didn't tell anyone. But no one knew. Therefore it also wasn't surprising when the dealers turned up trussed on the doorstep of the nearest police station, bleeding and half-dead. No one was the wiser.
And if the boy walked with more of a limp than usual, and he responded more with a grimace than the usual phony smile and no one noticed- forgive the others, he was the new kid, it was easy to miss.
The burgeoning self-destructive tendencies were hidden under a sound façade, the same smile, the same jocular attitude, the carefree jokester. No one would suspect that he was the one who walked the streets long after dark to keep the streets free of threats. Long after every light in his borrowed home had gone dark. He wasn't close to anyone. That made it easy.
So if one day, a random child asked him about his parents. About the life he used to cherish more than anything, it was easy to forgive them- they didn't know.
"So, what do your parents do for a living?"
"…Oh… I'm so sorry."
And no one knew he couldn't handle it, the pity that he hated more than anything else.
He made his decisions and was prepared to live with the consequences, but not the pity. He couldn't.
Forgive the kid if it seemed like an easy question to ask, it normally would be. He didn't know.
Alone, it was easy for the death, danger, fear, self-hatred to become too much.
Easy to make sure that he didn't get the help he needed- he even helped.
'No one' knew- what is a hero without someone to protect, with nobody left to pick up the pieces, no Kings Horses, no Kings Men to put the little broken boy back together again?
So it should have been easy for 'no one' to let him pull the trigger.
It wasn't. Nor was it easy to stand in the grass afterwards, listening to the silence, the absence. She, 'no one' was the only from his old life there. No one knew, couldn't stomach the inevitable.
The only easy part about it was listening to the 'thump thump' of the dirt hitting the coffin lid. Tossing a single white tulip on the lid was too.
The plan was easy, full proof even….the result, inevitable. The result wasn't easy. Just the opposite.
She needed another mint.
Hey guys! How was it, just something I needed to get out of my system, while I am writing something else for …one of my other fics. But math class was boring and easy- so this happened.
If some of this seems weird, blame my thought process. It jumps from one place to another rather quickly. It can be a pain.
Did you know? The tulip is a good flower for forgiveness? Especially a white tulip? Tulip Jones…. Hmmm.
Anyway, a rather sad end for our boy Alex. But truthfully, at the end of the novels, I don't think he had very many options left. And this is one of the ones I thought was likely, this one just was a little…. facilitated. The other two are more hopeful, but ultimately just as depressing. At least I think so.
The end of something amazing, and he would most likely be haunted for life. The other would most likely result in a premature death as well.
So thanks for reading, and leave comments on any major errors, I didn't have anyone beta, so it's all straight out. That could be either fine… or really bad.
Buh-bye!