"The Witnesses of Death" Revised Pt 2-2

A/N: Sorry for splitting this short story at such a bad spot. 

“So you’re going to make everyone in this school and your family go through it.”

“I’ve already thought about that.”

“It’s harder to be the one left behind,” I interrupted.

He sighed, exasperated, and said, “I’ve made my decision.”

I spoke quietly, “Decisions can be unmade.”

“I suppose you want to do just that?”

“No. I can’t do that. I only want to tell you what I think you need to consider. Because a life taken from this world is hard enough, and to know it was willingly, chosen, is even worse.” There was another silence before I said. “You’re familiar with Moses, right?” I knew he was because we lived in a small town where almost everyone was Christian, and he went to the same church as me.

“Yeah?”

“Moses lived 120 years. There’s no chance he didn’t witness death. He lived through the death of Pharaoh, who he thought was his father, the man he grew up knowing as his brother, his real brother, Aaron, and his biological sister, Miriam. He also experienced the deaths of the Egyptians when God sent the plagues. He lived through wars, and many people he knew died. Some Israelites he led died at the hands of God. He didn’t even know his own mother. Even so, he always saw God’s miracles much more prominently than the things that would cause grief. Moses trusted that God’s way was best, even if our human minds cannot comprehend why death could be good. We have to go on the little hope we’re given—the hope that there is a reason, that it will get better, and that this is the best way it could be. It is said there will be no other like Moses, which I agree with. He witnessed God, he spoke to God, and trusted all of God’s words and doings. He also talked to God, praying, sometimes, that he may be forgiving. Imagine that—

seeing God and having a conversation with him as if he were standing beside you.”

I could see that this story got to Carter more than anything else would have. Still, he acted as if it didn’t. “What’s your point?” he questioned, with a little less edge in his voice.

I looked him in the eye, knowing he knew my point. “Carter, if this is one of the last conversations we’ll have, can I ask for two things?” I still had to work at holding back tears.

“What are they?”

“The first is to promise me that you’ll pray every night before you… k-kill yourself,” I said, almost choking on the last two words. “The second is that you let me pray over you now.”

He looked back at me. After a second, he nodded. “I promise.”

“Do you know when you’re going to yet?”

His voice shrunk to almost a whisper. “I was planning on it either tonight or tomorrow night.” I had to clench my teeth once again to keep letting out a sob.

“Okay…,” I got on my knees and motioned for him to do the same. We faced each other, and he bowed his head and closed his eyes traditionally, whereas I only looked down. Every syllable was a struggle to get out. “Father, I pray for Carter. I pray that You grant him the wisdom to know what will help him cope with the pain that comes with death. Please help him to know and do only what is Your plan. If this is the way it’s meant to be, then this is how it needs to be. I understand that, and I pray everyone else will, too.”

I let out a shaky breath and allowed myself to tear up. I was talking to God, which is one time I will not hide my emotions. “Lord, I pray that his passing is painless, and that You give him peace in his last hours. I ask that he can experience You more than ever before in the little bit of his life that is left. Help his family and peers to be strong in his absence, trusting you with all their strength, and not giving up on You or Your promises.”

Now my words were becoming harder to understand as they were intertwined with my crying. “Don’t let this happen if it’s not supposed to be this way. Please. If there’s any way for You to change Your will, I pray with all my being that You do. Thank You, Father.” At this point I gave up on talking, knowing that my prayers would be heard even if silent. I closed my eyes and blocked out everything except my prayer. I focused on God and tried to control my sobs and take in His peace.

After a couple minutes, I had mostly stopped crying, but my prayer didn’t feel complete. So I did what I have done so many times. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.” When I continued to the next line, I heard Carter join. “Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. Lead us not to temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory forever. Amen.”

I opened my eyes after a second, and Carter was starting to stand. I pulled my legs out from under me, and I sat with my legs crossed. I looked up at his face and asked, chuckling slightly, “Did you join out of habit or because you wanted to?”

“A little bit of both,” he grinned a little.

I got up shakily, using the wall for support, and stated, “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too. I’ll miss everyone…”

“Just remember it’s never too late, okay?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

Then, because I couldn’t bear not to, I hugged him. As we stood there embracing one another, I had no want to cry. Once we let go, we both knew we had to go to class.

We left, and on the way to my locker I stopped in the bathroom to wash my face. With much struggle, I went through my day acting as though nothing were wrong. No one suspected anything, and I tried, perhaps too hard, to not let anything show.

For hours that night, I prayed. I prayed that Carter’s mind was changed, that he no longer wanted death. I cried, spoke vigorously, and sat in silence. I had to keep reminding myself I tried to help, and that God would take care of the rest. Eventually, though, I gave in to how tired I was and fell asleep.

The next day I didn’t see Carter. He wasn’t in class, and even though some of his friends were sure he was just sick, Mr. Bluett and I knew better. So when science came and Mr. Bluett noticed Carter’s absence, we shared a pained look. Still, I clung onto the last strings of hope that maybe he really was just sick.

Again, that night, I prayed. I prayed that it wasn’t too late, and that Carter had chosen life. That second night was very much like the first.

The next day, I heard the whispers, the rumors that already spread through the Freshmen hallway. I finally got the news I was waiting for. I hoped and prayed it wouldn’t happen. But it did. Carter was dead. I would never see his smile or hear another one of his stupid jokes again.

There was a group of his friends crowded in a circle by the dark red lockers. I heard them talking about it, and I stopped walking. I stared at the people I heard crying about his death and asked them, “What?” I croaked out the words. They turned to me and repeated what they just were talking about. “Carter died.” I could hear the girl who spoke up trying to steady her voice, and I noticed how all of them were failing to hold back their tears. I couldn’t do anything as I stood there with tears threatening to pour out of my eyes.

I never saw Carter again.

A/N: Let me know what you think of the ending. Should I keep it how it is? Should I talk about the funeral? Is there a better spot to end it? Please shower me with opinions.