If I could spare his life
If I could trade his life for mine
He'd be standing here right now
And you would smile, and that would be enough
I wish I could have ran. I wish I could have had somewhere to go. By no means was I stepping foot in the park.
All I could do was walk around my block. I did it quickly, practically jogged, so many times that I lost count.
My mother's voice still echoed in my ears. How she told me he had died. That he had died in a duel, as if it was my first time hearing any of it. How, word on the street was, he had died not long after it. He had been shot and it had been fatal. There was nothing to do.
Apparently, it was the day's talk of the town. Everybody was commenting on it. I knew how much he hated being the subject of backbiting. I wanted to demand everyone to keep his name out of their mouths.
I did an outstanding job hiding my feelings until my mother left the room. While she was there, all I expressed were the usual pities. I showed lament, but I didn't show heartbreak. That I saved for when I was alone.
Mom also told me she had heard both Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton arrived in time to say goodbye to him. He had them both by his side. If anything was to comfort me, was that Philip had his mother's hand to hold during those last minutes, in which he must have been so, incredibly terrified.
However, if anything was to break my heart a little more, was that Mrs. Hamilton had to watch her son die. I could not even think of her without having tears fall down my face.
I would have thought it impossible for both pain and numbness to coexist in such way, for them to be felt equally as much. Turns out, they can both sting simultaneously, in their own, unique, cruel way.