A/N: Thank everyone so much for reading this. I absolutely enjoyed writing it. I'm sad to say that this is the last chapter, but I will be writing more stories in the future, rest assured. So give me some good last reviews, will ya?
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Rose: Don't you die before me.
Bosco: You got it.
--Firestarter
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Chapter 5
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The instant after I pulled the trigger, I turned around and ran. I ran for my life down the ladder and out the door so that I was no longer in sight of the crowd. I shut myself in the nearest classroom, hoping to God that they would be too caught up in helping their 'injured cop' that they wouldn't come to find me immediately. I was lucky.
I took off my black guise and hid my gun in my jacket in order to slip away unnoticed. Or that's what I was hoping anyways. . .
Once everyone had rushed up to the top of the building to help their fellow officer, I had my opportunity to run. Oh and I ran like hell had been set loose.
^v^v^v^v^
I walked into the familiar warehouse that I had been accustomed to for the past few months. I looked around my shoulder every couple seconds, makin' sure no one was on my trail. . . Dumb-asses never even saw me.
I saw him sittin' in a chair, watchin' something on TV, when he turned himself around facing me.
"I've been watchin' the news, Mike." He said. "You did a good job, I must say. I think you deserve your reward."
"You got the stash?" I almost demanded, shaking in withdrawal.
"Patience." He continued to say, just sitting there. He was pushing my every last button, and I wasn't very 'patient' at that time. I had just committed murder on KIDS so that I could get a first hand on this dope. I wasn't feeling too patient!
"Come on man, I did what you told me to! Now give it to me!" I was getting angrier as every second passed. I felt the perspiration dripping down my forehead as I swayed back and fourth, trying to catch my breath.
"Give it time Michael – "
"I need it now! Give me the damn dope!" I continued shouting, now feeling a headache comin' on.
He didn't move.
"Damn you!" I reached into my jacket and pulled out the gun. "Sorry 'bout this, Dad."
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~Faith's POV~
The doctors told me that there was nothing to be done. They'd said that he was gone before he even got to the hospital; he'd lost too much blood. They gave me the whole "We did everything possible" speech, but I think I was already prepared. I think that deep down, I'd already knew that I'd lost him. The second that I saw him lying on the ground, bleeding, I knew that was it.
Bosco; my partner; my best friend, was gone. . . forever.
I'll never forget what it felt like to hear those words. No matter how much I try to forget everything that happened, I can't. I always look back to that day, and I can remember every single little detail as if it were a movie replaying over and over in my head. Every sound, every smell. . . Everything stayed with me.
I always tell myself that I could have stopped him. I tell myself that I could have held him back; told him how stupid it was to go into that school without backup. . . Sometimes, even to this day, I still think that it was my fault. But then, there's no dwelling on the past, right? There is nothing that I can do to change it. No matter how much I beat myself up, the outcome is always the same. He's not comin' back.
ESU found the body of Anthony Boscorelli the day after the shooting. Shot straight in the head. They figured he was involved with the shooting in some way, because the bullet they recovered was approximated to be from the same gun that was used on Bosco.
Mikey was never found. . .
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I talked to Rose Boscorelli after Bosco's funeral. I told her that he was thinking about her in his last moments and that he was sorry for breaking his promise. . . She must have known what I was talking about, because when I told her, she fell to the floor in deep sobs.
I knelt down and hugged her, telling her that it would be okay. . . Much the same way I had done to Bosco not a week earlier. Funny how things repeat themselves.
Rose had lost her entire family in one day. . .I can't even imagine how much pain that must have bestowed on her. I still visit her every once in awhile. She's a very nice lady. She tells me stories of when Bosco was a little kid, which are always amusing, and I tell her stories about how much he loved what he did. I feel like I know him better now then I ever did before.
So here I am, sitting by his grave, a year to the day after the worst event of my life. I miss him more then words could ever say, and I would do anything to have him back. But I know that I can't. I know I have to move on, regardless of how hard it is.
I visit him almost every day. I'll sit here and just talk to him for hours at a time, telling him things that I never had the guts to say to his face before. I hope he hears me. . .
I don't really cry all that much anymore. I mean, I still grieve; I will continue to grieve until the day I die, but I never cry.
I think I've run out of tears.
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The End