Disclaimer: I own nothing and I'm making no money.
A/N: This is my first DPS fic. It's a one shot. Go ahead and rip it apart.
I don't know why they even came. His mother, the shrew, shrieks and cries and grieves like it wasn't her fault. Her fault. Not all her fault. His father's here too. He doesn't make a sound, but he clamps his arms around his wife, holding her to his chest. It looks like he's trying to smother her; to squeeze the banshee into silence. I hope she suffocates, but I hope she bursts his eardrums first.
I hate the coffin. It's a light wood, carved with traditional patterns and covered with flowers that couldn't have been picked from our frozen ground. I lay pine bows on the top, just so that they'll know… God, Neil would never have wanted to be seen like this. His last image shouldn't be light, it should be dark. A deep mahogany, or even ebony box. I wonder if his father even cares. I hope he cares. I hope he cares so much it rips him to shreds on the inside. I hope he suffers for the rest of his life, because I will, and it's his fault. But not all his fault.
The teachers and administrators are here too. How can they do this? Do this to themselves? Do this to Neil? They just stand there, like there's nothing they could've done, like we couldn't have saved him if we'd only tried, like his death was some fantastic end to a mystery novel. Like Neil was just some plot twist that they weren't quite sure about ending. Well, you know how it winds up now, don't you? He's dead. Dead. Dead. He shot himself with his father's gun. He died because he wanted to live. And you, all of you…you wouldn't-no… No, you couldn't let him, could you? Well, congratulations, now he's yours. He's yours to remember as you'd have liked him to be. Go ahead. Just go ahead, because I know the truth. I know all of it. It was your fault. Maybe not all your fault.
That bastard. That…that…that vile being that I'm ashamed to call human. He could've stopped this. He could've talked to Neil. Together, they could've done something. They could've fixed this before…before Neil lost hope. He used to be your hope, wasn't he? Yes, he could've saved you, but he was afraid. Wasn't he? He was afraid that if he tried to help he'd know the truth, and then he'd have to step up. He'd have to step out of the shadows. He'd have to stop pretending that he didn't want to care or know or see…But he couldn't do that, could he? Coward. What a coward. I hope he lives. I hope he lives so that he can rot inside, and fester, and build and build until the only thing he sees is your face shimmering before my eyes. Your laughter echoing in my ears. I hope all I can think about is you, and when I die, I hope it hurts, hurts so bad that I can compare it to that morning in the snow…Because I know that it's my fault. My fault. It's all my fault.