Here is the conclusion. It ends better than it started.I heard the unmistakable sound of voices in our living room downstairs as I struggled with the ropes. My wrists were sore and I barely could budge my bindings, they left ingrained welts from what little I managed to maneuver. The padding of feet in the hallway interrupted my false sense of security and motivated me to work quicker before I gave up. It was no use.He wore a mask and approached the side of my bed from the doorway. Now I knew that given my situation no one would want me to get loose and flee. He looked me over. I noticed the gleam of his switchblade and as I screamed, his leather gloved hand smothered me. He worked steadfast and pieces of the ropes frayed as they fell onto my immobile form. I regained feeling in both wrists, he shoved a pair of jeans, a shirt, knit hat and a jacket at me. Didn't speak a word but I knew he wanted me to get dressed since I was completely naked and shivering.I put everything on and hid. I walked up a grassy hill leading to a cemetery plot surrounded by well wishers. I stood stonefaced as the polished Cherrywood casket was lowered into the ground, the priest began to speak but his words fell upon my ears as mere mumbles. My gaze shifted to the carefully chiselled Marble headstone. "Here lies Jason Brewster, beloved son and brother. 1984-2005"After the service I picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it in, then as the crowd began to thin I pulled a photo from my pocket and tossed it in. June 1998: I was a fresh faced 16 year old enjoying my last year of Junior High before I moved up to the big leagues, Highschool. My best friend Jason was two years younger than me but we were both moving on together, a byproduct of my being held back twice. The end of the year was fast approaching and we needed to plan the ultimate blow-out. Luckly the consumate partier of our class was throwing a rager all weekend. I told my parents I was studying for finals at Jason's and he did.
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