Good Riddance
Sometimes, the only way to get rid of the bad is to bury it. Literally. My little brothers play innocently nearby as my older brother and I finish digging. It's deep enough. He's heavy. The tarp is stained. The smell... it's the smell of necessity. He won't hurt anyone ever again. Now comes the hard part: making sure no one ever finds out what we did tonight.
The shovel slipped from your grasp, clattering against the freshly turned earth. Rain had soaked the ground, and now, as you slumped beside the gaping hole, the damp chill seeped through your jeans. Your feet dangled into the darkness, a stark contrast to the bright afternoon sun that had been streaming in just hours ago. Nearby, your little brothers, Benjamin and Joshua, were engrossed in a game of catch, their laughter a surreal counterpoint to the grim task you and Aaron had just completed.
The back door creaked open, and Aaron emerged, dragging a heavy, stained tarp behind him. A wave of nausea rolled over you at the sight. It was done. Ryan was gone. But the night was far from over.
