— I'm sorry! I'm so sorry.
Casey was crying his eyes out on the boy's grave.


It was late. He was coming home from one of hell of a meeting with Delilah. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than sleep. He was walking towards the cemetery, taking a short road, having missed the last bus.
Listening to his MP3, he saw a tall man standing in front of the cemetery's gate. That was weird. Casey stopped walking. The man was standing in front of the door, not moving, white like a sheet. He was looking creepy as hell.
Slowly, the man bent his head as if hearing something. Casey's heart was now beating like mad. He was sure the man would notice him, perhaps has he already heard him breathed hard through his trembling lips. When the man turned his head towards him, Casey's heart missed a beat.
— Tyler?

He had run away as fast as he could, fell twice scratching his hands and knees but didn't care. As soon as he came home, he ran to his bedroom and hid in his bed. He refused to go to school the following day, and the day after.
He knew what he saw. It sounded crazy. He couldn't confess it to anyone. But, in front of the cemetery's gate, three nights ago, he saw Zeke Tyler, Zeke Tyler's dead body.

Two weeks and five murders later, Casey was scared to death. All corpses have been found their hearts ripped out from the ribcages. What about the poor victims? Those were the guys who murdered Zeke Tyler.
Casey was the last one left.

Casey was not surprised, scared but not surprised, when he woke up with a start and found Zeke sitting at the foot of his bed one cold night.
— You could have done that when I was still asleep, you know, he barely whispered through soft pink trembling lips, would have hurt less.
— Done what? asked the boy through bluish and paper dead lips.
— Rip my heart out.
— Why would I do that?
— Why not? I didn't help you when they were beating you up. Didn't even try.
Casey was trembling from head to toes. His duvet wasn't any help at all. He has been cold since the night he left Zeke Tyler's eyes went glassy looking at him, reaping his very soul. Though, now, he could feel another kind of coldness, the death emanating from Zeke's body.
— You were scared.
— You were dying.
Casey couldn't cry now for the life of him. His eyes had gone dry days ago. Though, his throat is closing; he found it hard to breath. He felt so guilty.
— Wouldn't have changed a thing, answered Zeke.
— Perhaps it would have! Argued Casey.
— No.
Zeke shouldn't be the one consoling him, telling him comforting words. Casey may as well have killed him with his cowardice! He was now uncontrollably sobbing, crying his heart out. He was the one with a heart so heavy that could suffocate him.
He begged through incomprehensible babbling, once again, a dead to forgive him. When a cold hand brushed his cheek, he gasped. Those long fingers were traveling over his face, drawing strange patterns, brushing against his wet eyelids. The gentle thumb came to rest against his lips, caressing them, tearing them apart. Casey's breath blew feverish against the cold of the death.
— You feel so warm, murmured Zeke amazed, even their blood didn't feel so great against my skin.
Casey gulped slowly, his lips brushing against the cold hand.
— Release me, whispered Zeke.
— What? How?
— I don't know. You're the one who called for me, who prayed for revenge.
— I didn't!
— You did.
He did.

Night after night, Zeke came to him to gain his freedom.
He could just kill him and bath his cold hands in his guilty and warm blood but he didn't. He just took what Casey craved to give him, his burning skin, and his sick mouth.
Zeke's body, his lips were disgustingly beautiful even in death; the caress of his coldness was taking Casey' breath away.
— Release me; the dead boy would say between kisses, enjoying the warmth he would never be able to feel again.
— I'll, would answer Casey tearing their clothes apart, trying to chase the coldness away.
Now, Casey knew how to release Zeke from that strange spell he put on him, he knew that it was his sentence for not being able to forgive himself for his crime, for what he did to Zeke. Though, he would certainly burn in Hell for what he was doing now, not the making love to a very dead and cold body, but refusing it the right to rest in peace.