And now he was his present. He lived for a purpose and now that purpose was over. Emptiness but not without redemption.

As Donnie and Gretchen strolled in sielence for perhaps what was only a fraction of nothing, his face remained somnolent while the flickering shafts of sunlight lightened his face in blotches through the gaps in the trees. He skipped a breath.
Gretchen looked up hopefully and caught Donnie's eyes, perhaps as easily as she had captured his breath and equally his mind in that moment.
Donnie turned his head right around, his eyes searching desperately for something to transfer his attention to. It was only then that he realised how he was nervously rubbing the handlebars of his bike. His teeth scraped his bottom lip and he let go of the bars and the bicycle swerved from his control momentarily.
She caught it. She laughs. Laughter still comes easily to the blissfully ignorant... and the positively insane.
Here you go, Gretchen smiled, Are you sure you're ok? You look a little freaked out.

But he wasn't insane! He was fine. Just fine and everything would have been better if he hadn't messed up this stupid time thing.
Er, no, I'm fine, honestly...
Donnie had a wave of relief hit him. Everything WAS FINE. Nothing had happened... yet. He needed to get away.
I should, uh, go now... He gazed back to Gretchen and saw her soul staring back, yearning to make contact with his, but his was guarded, in a cage, protected by a thousand armies and just then a thousand less.

I'm gonna start school here. Do you go to school here? She pushed back her dark hair and sheltered her eyes to look at him better.
Do I know you?

Donnie started. He turned to her, desperate for refuge from his thoughts.
He replied, his voice practically croaking it out. Listen, I-I.. I gotta go.. He said, his eyebrows raising and dropping in despondency.

Donnie got on his bike and rode off. He turned the corner and he winced, his despair evident on his face.

This was all wrong, he thought as he got clumsily off his bike. All his fault, as he trudged in a state of abstraction up the stairs. For now he knew, it would be a million times harder than when he had first thought. For now it would not be quick, he would be spared the luxury of little choice, because for the first time, he felt as though he had a choice, and it spoke to him. Despite the ever changing contradictions of his better sense.

Because nothing was left.

Nothing at all,

he repeated to himself as the shards of splintered roof beams dug visciously into his regardlessly beating heart.

Which in turn poisoned his still decaying mind.

And it tore at him.

I don't want to die......

Gretchen Ross sped by his window outside on her bicyle.

I don't want to die.