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field as the distant sound of sirens and haunting echoes of human voices screaming bloody murder followed my retreat, permeating my mind.

Claire
    Even though Addie was my best friend, it was torture being around her because of how much she reminded me of Daniel. At first, just looking at her was like another knife digging deeper into my heart. But the day of the funeral changed all that. I had to step it up no matter how much it hurt because Addie was on the verge of losing it any second. Not that I was doing any better, but at least I still had a brother.
    It was a calm, sunny morning at the cemetery, and everyone sat quietly in orderly rows of metal chairs facing a mahogany casket topped with a hundred and one colorful flowers. The air smelled clean and new, like the beginning of a perfect summer day, which it was not. We were all trying to listen to words that were supposed to comfort us, all squinting in the morning sun that could care less we were wearing black. I thought it was supposed to rain at funerals, anyway. That was how it seemed to work in the movies.
    Addie suddenly reached for my hand and gripped it tightly. I had known her long enough to tell it was not a regular squeeze. Not this time.
    Her dad was standing at a makeshift pulpit in front of the crowd. It was his turn to speak. He looked like he was trying to be brave. We were all trying to be brave, but let’s face it—courage does not count if you feel like you’re dying inside. Right then, not crying would have been pointless…and impossible.
    “…was such a good son,” he was saying. “Daniel would always drop everything to help someone out…always put everyone else first…to his own detriment–”
    Matthew suddenly jumped up as a strangled sob tore from his throat. His chair fell forward, its folding legs trying to latch onto his feet. But he took off down the grassy hill, into the road, through a line of cars.
    Addie really lost it then. Another gasp escaped her mouth, and she stood, too, like she wanted to follow Matthew. But I wouldn’t let her. I was afraid she wouldn’t come back. Instead, I held onto her sweaty palm like my life depended on it, and pulled her back to me.
    “Addie,” I whispered in her ear, pulling her head close to mine. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she was shaking.
    Her dad had already stopped mid-sentence at Matthew’s departure—confused, conflicted, not sure what to do or say while her mom leaned forward in her chair, her body bent in half, her back and shoulders shaking up and down as nearby hands rested on them, attempting to soothe her. More crying erupted left and right, in front and in back of me, surrounding me.
    It was a disaster.
    Addie’s eyes popped open and looked around when she realized everyone was watching her. I nudged her head back down to mine and told her to close her eyes. Her hand still squeezed mine. My fingers felt numb as I wrapped my arm around her, whispering into her ear everything I was sure she needed to hear, even though it felt like a lie. I almost felt guilty about how easily those words came out of my mouth.
    “Addie, it’s going to be all right. Some day it will. I promise, like we used to make pinky promises when we were ten. Remember that? It’s okay Ads…”
    She sobbed. Her dad sank down on the ground. No one could do or say anything. I rubbed her back, smoothed her hair, told her lies. “He’s not gone forever, Addie. We’ll see him again, we will,” I said, trying to convince us both. Of course that was when my voice caught, her dad’s words repeating themselves in my mind over and over again, “He was such a good son…would drop everything to help someone out…always put everyone else first…”
    Every word was true, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I had lost by losing him. Not just Daniel, but all that made him Daniel. All that made Matthew and Addie love him and whatever it was inside him that made his eyes light up every morning. I