It was a doctor from the Wyoming State Hospital that walked out to Brave as he sat in the waiting room. His hands clutched together, his head down. The doctor approached the boy "Sir, are you Lee Rosenberg?" Brave didn't look up, but answered quietly, "Yes". The doctor exhaled, "Damien Gallagher was pronounced dead at 9:12am on August 29th, 2017" The doctor paused, before ending off, "I am… so sorry for your loss" His tone held only sympathy. Brave stayed silent, he knew his husband was dead. Though hearing it officially caused his breath to hitch. And in that moment the world seemed to slow, all around him was life. Living, breathing people. Sadness swelled in his chest, but even greater than that sadness was the anger that followed. Out of everyone in world, the fugitives, the killers, the men in jail, his husband was chosen to die. The man that he relied on, that man that relied on him. How could he know that Damien's last word would be "Fine", or maybe it wasn't, maybe he talked in his sleep before his passing. Alas, Brave wouldn't know, for he stayed in the living room, researching, instead of sleeping with the only man that he truly loved.
As Brave drove home that day, he rolled down his window, the breeze hitting his cheeks. It was this breeze, that Damien would never feel again, this car, that he would never sit in. Frustration bloomed in his body, knowing that this could've been prevented; so easily prevented. But it hadn't been, and who was there to blame? Only one person. Hatred, the most underestimated emotion was the only thing that sat in that car, on that day.
He took the long way home, driving down backroads, and although the world was silent in its wake, it's silence was the loudest noise in Brave's head, the perfect noise to fuel his emotions.