I'm so tired, tired of running, tired of the multitude of emotions that has ravaged me, tired of keeping it all hidden. I'm still in denial. It hasn't happened, it couldn't have. Its just a nightmare and any minute, I'm going to wake up, wake up back in my normal life. But, when I open my eyes, the nightmare is still the reality. How am I going to handle this? All that I've ever known is gone, taken from me. Its not fair. Why me?
No, I can't break down, can't let it out, because if I do, then that's me accepting it. And I don't accept it. I have to be strong, not just for him, but to keep myself from spiraling over the edge. But how do I do that? I'm screaming on the inside. I feel like I'm going to explode if some of this doesn't get released. Where is the life that I recognize?
I'm angry. I feel empty inside. Lost. Noone should ever have to go through this. I don't understand. I can't handle this. But I have too, there's no going back, no changing it. Why would anyone do this?
I constantly relive it, the memories replay themselves. And everytime is just as vivid as when it happened. One moment, joy and innocence, the next, death, destruction. I see the smoke, I hear the noise as I come over the rise. I can't believe what I'm seeing. I scream and start to run, not knowing what I'll see or do when I get there. I get there too late. The damage is done. Everything, gone. I should've been here. Then I see her. She's lying on her back. I run to her and drop to my knees. Her eyes are closed. Blood covers her favorite blue dress. I can clearly see she's at death's door. And there's nothing I can do about it. No amount of planning or thinking could have ever prepared me for this. Tears stream down my face as I reach down and take her hand in mine. I beg for her not to go. I watch the rise and fall of her chest grow lighter and lighter until finally, it stops. I don't know what to do. I just watched her take her last breath on this earth. Ironic, it seems. She saw me take my first breath, I saw her last. I slowly lower myself to hug her. I whisper that I love her in her ear and that I already miss her. How am I going to go on? I still need her. The tears then start flowing like a flooding river. I yell, the sound muffled by my head on her shoulder. My whole body is shaking. My heart feels as if its been ripped from my chest. I feel I'll never feel happiness again.
Then, a horrible thought hits me. Whoever did this probably didn't stop here. But how can I leave here now? How can I EVER leave? I have no desire to do anything. But I have too. I have to go see. I promise her I'll be back.
Then I ran. I ran and saw the exact same scene being played out there. I see him kneeled down, begging for them to wake up. But I know they aren't going too, just like mine won't. I hide my feelings and run down to him. He sees me and flings his arms around me, asking me why. I wished I knew. I tell him we can't stay here, even though I want to with all my heart. I tell him we need to leave and we should take what we can with us. Then I use that excuse to get him to go back to the creek and get our things we left there, and to go to that orchard just down the road and get us a bunch of apples so's we have something to eat. I tell him to meet me back at my place. I know that'll keep him gone for a little while. It should be long enough. I find a shovel and start to dig.
I finish burying his family. Its not a proper burial, but its the best I can do with the time I have. I'm the oldest so I have to take care of him. Then I run back to my own place. The emotional impact hits me again. I know it has to be done, but how can I do it? How can I bury my own parents? No child should have to do that. I have a hard time digging for all the tears blurring my vision. Then the time comes to cover them. I stop and almost collapse. I just can't do this. I can't just put them in the ground and leave. But deep down, I know I have too because I have no way of knowing if the cruel ones responsible will come back to finish us off. I don't fully realize it at the time, but those moments would affect me the rest of my life.
I feel so alone, and numb. I just stand there staring at the ground, willing reality to return to the way it was just hours ago. Eventually, I realize my name is being called. I wipe my face and turn to face him. Don't rightly know how long he'd been standing there. I just know the best thing for me to do at that minute is to push all my feelings deep down inside and lock them away. He's been through enough without my burdens on his shoulders too. I didn't realize it at the time, but I'd had to do a lifetime of growing up within the span of a few hours. Carefree turned to burden-bound.
I took one look back and it took everything in me to tear myself away from there. I just felt like lying down and giving up. Nothing seemed to matter now. Then a tap on my shoulder reminded me I had new responsibilities. I turn to him and say, "Let's go", and we never went back.
If I were honest with myself, I really had no desire to ever go back. I wanted no reminders of the events of that day. If I ran enough, maybe I could escape the tormenting memories and emotions. In time, I found out that was one thing I never could figure out how to escape from.
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We rarely talk about those days. It just reopens old wounds. Truth be told, there's still anger buried in me. I guess I never finished the grieving process, simply because I wouldn't allow myself too. I still don't want to accept what happened. Whoever it was that said 'times heals all wounds' apparently had never suffered any type of tragedy. The wounds remain. Time just causes scars to appear to cover them.
The anger and anguish I relegated to my inner consciousness that day has affected me far more than I like to admit. Most people would say I'm pretty talkative. Well let me tell you, sometimes, its mostly a giant facade. I may talk and smile and be polite, but deep inside, I don't want to fool that much with people. You can't trust them. They only see what I want them to see. I'm pretty good at hiding my true feelings. If people knew me, the REAL me, it would probably disturb them. I have giant mood swings. One minute, I'll be on top of the world, completely happy. But just one little thing can trigger a descent into dark territory where all that anger lurks. Its all I can do to contain it at times. Some folks seem to think I'm solitary at times because I'm deep in thought about a plan or figuring out some problem, and sometimes, that is the case. Those other times though, I'm just trying to avoid contact for fear of what may be unleashed. No, I've never murdered anyone, don't mean I haven't thought about it. I've actually told a few they better be glad I don't believe in killing because they'd have been dead a long time ago. I've caught myself at times dwelling on what I would do to people that have crossed me if I ever caught up with them again. Few have ever seen me REALLY angry. To be honest, I've scared myself a couple of times. Kid'll tell you. There's a couple of walls back at the leader's cabin in Devil's Hole that have a place punched out of 'em, and they didn't get there because of too much whiskey.
Honestly, I get depressed quite often. I think alot on what I coulda done different in life. I feel guilt over getting my younger cousin into our former line of work. And I think about death almost on a daily basis. Not suicide or nothin' like that. Just how my life could end as abruptly as my folks did, especially me being who I am. Its a scary train of thought and I haven't quite figured out how to derail it. Funny really. I use to stop trains for a living, but I can't stop my own thoughts.
My mind keeps me awake at night. I don't remember the last time I got a good night's sleep. It just skips from one thing to another. No matter what I do, it won't let up. Its torment really. I've wished before that I could just reach in there and jerk the part of my brain responsible for that out. Yeah, I know. I think too much. Kid tells me that at least three times or more a week. Of course, I tell him that's better than not thinking at all, which awards me with his 'look'. Kid's the only person I got in this world, the only one I can talk too, the only one that knows the real Hannibal Heyes. I constantly worry about something happening to him. If it did, I feel I would surely slip over the edge. Maybe I just unconsciously wish that I were actually 'normal citizen Joshua Smith' instead of ex-outlaw Hannibal Heyes. Maybe I should just shut up...
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It was a little after midnight when Kid Curry sleepily staggered into the saloon. He took a quick glance around. The place was mostly dark, save for a lantern above the bar and another above a poker game that had apparently been going on for quite a while. He made his way over to the bartender who stood watching the card game. "Excuse me. I'm looking for a friend of mine. He might've been in here earlier, about my height, black hat with silver trim, answers to Joshua."
The bartender nodded toward a dark corner. "He's over there with Penelope and a bottle of whiskey. Been there all night talking. Hasn't left that table."
"I didn't see any women when I came in."
"Penelope ain't no saloon girl. She's my pet possum. Comes to work with me everyday."
"A possum?" Kid got a confused look on his face. "Thanks."
He made his way over to the corner table in the back of the room. Upon arriving, he saw two dark eyes with a glazed over look. The owner of the dark eyes was lying on the table belly-up, twitching ever so often. Kid then looked at Heyes. His dark eyes seemed equally as glazed. "You know you had me worried when I woke up and you weren't back yet." Heyes looked up at him, grunted, and threw back another shot. "You been in here all evening talking to this possum and getting it drunk?"
"Yyyyyep," Heyes slowly said. "She really likes whishkey. Good lishtener too." Penelope rolled over on her side and snorted.
Kid took in the look on Heyes' face. Besides the glaze over his eyes, even in the dim saloon, Kid could see that distant, sad look Heyes got when he'd been dwelling on the past. He didn't delve into it deeply very often, but when he did, he could spend days introverted and depressed. "C'mon Heyes. I think you and your girlfriend has had enough for tonight." Kid moved the offending bottle to another table and helped Heyes get to his feet. Penelope never moved. "Why do you do this to yourself? You know once you start down this road you stay on it for a week or more. And that just makes life more difficult for you and me both."
"Shorry Kid. I just need to let shtuff out sometimes, you know?"
"Well why can't you just talk to me instead of yourself,...or in this case, a possum. You keep doing this in public, somebody's gonna drag you off to the asylum."
"Aw Kid. I'm shorry. It just gets too overwhelming sometimes. And I don't want to drag you down with me."
"Heyes. Shew. How many times I hafta tell you..."
Kid managed to finally get Heyes back to their room and laying on his bed. He stood there studying Heyes, who refused to look him in the eyes. After a moment, Heyes muttered, "It hurts so bad."
"I know Heyes. Best you just try to sleep this off." Kid threw a blanket over his dejected cousin. As full of whiskey as he was, it didn't take Heyes long to pass out. Kid went over to set on his own bed and turned down the lamp, still looking at Heyes. "I know partner. It does hurt."