I.
December 18, 2012
17 year old boy. Shot. Last night. Instantly killed. No witness. Unknown murderer.

I stared vacantly into the computer screen. The familiar shade of blue forming the simple letters that assembled the word I associated with everyday, innocuously hung above the horrible words that lingered on my Facebook newsfeed. Rest in Peace Austin. I love you. You will not be forgotten. These artificial words, from Facebook friends wanting to affect genuine condolences, were plastered on the lifeless screen.

Austin? Austin who? My Austin?

My fingers shook fervidly as I approached the highlighted name of the subject of all the statuses. The distant “Austin” I vacuously acknowledged as shot and instantly killed the night before, suddenly became the boy I had cherished the most in my childhood years. Disorientation slowly swept over my body as I gasped for breath in the oxygen-deprived air.

No, no, no, no, it can’t be.

His profile picture was still full of life; his bright blue eyes were full of soul and character, and his cherry like lips were full of gentility and bliss. As I scrolled down the page, all I could detect were those superficial words from his 1,172 Facebook friends. Tears streamed down my face as shades of brown before me started to swim in my eyes. My heart was beating as fast as the hooves of a horse on a racetrack. It was banging on my chest struggling to make its way out. I forced my eyes shut.

All I could see underneath the heavy eyelids of mine were gushes of memories. I replayed all the memories I cherished of him as I struggled to harbor the last modicum of reminiscences of my childhood. Our childhood.

II.
September 4th, 2001
My thoughts pondered back to the very first moment we met.

It was September 4th, 2001. The blazing Texan sun scintillated on my six-year-old self, as I made my way to the first day of elementary school. My steps loitered for I had no intentions of matriculating to a new school, away from my distant home. My family had just moved to the Lone Star State a few weeks back, and I had begun to feel aloof and secluded, due to the dearth of welcoming children in my neighborhood. The new culture and the new people consternated me... Up until I saw Austin.

“Hey, what’s your name?” The genial blue-eyed boy asked.

I muttered my name under my breath.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Austin. Do you want to come sit at my table with me?” Austin said openly.

And this is how it all began. Our friendship blossomed as the flowers did in the spring over the span of nine years of our inseparable friendship. Austin’s affable personality collaborated well with my quirkiness and for that, we made a great team. The myriad of minutes we spent together encompassed all aspects of genuine friendship of a boy and a girl.

When we were in second grade, we ventured out into our neighborhood with our new bicycles.

“Hey, let’s race! Whoever bikes to the end of the driveway the fastest, wins! Okay? Loser has to give cookies!” Austin shouted.

“Fine, you’re on,” I replied competitively.

Although it was merely my third time riding a bike, my competitive inner instinct promptly accepted his challenge. As we expeditiously pedaled on the rugged driveway, we appeared as just a couple of carefree kids. Fervent sunlight shined on us as we blithely laughed and hurried to the end of the driveway when I, not noticing the speed bump, vaulted in the air and landed on my vulnerable knees. Blood started to gush out from the intricately scraped scars on my knee as Austin comforted me.

“I’m sorry,” He started, “I’ll never let anything hurt you again. I promise.”

“It’s okay. And I promise too. You’re my best friend,” I answered.

My conspicuous pain felt like the end of the world; I thought nothing could be worse. However, this day did mark the beginning of our profound relationship with each other. Other than the physical scar I gained that day, I had gained something much bigger, more substantial. We had made each other a promise, a promise I hoped to keep forever. I’m sorry Austin. I broke our promise. How could our lives have unraveled in such a way, leading to this morose day? We were just a couple of kids then. I wish that’s where we all still were.

III.
April 25, 2009
Hot tears continued to trace down my swollen eyes as I evoked the memory of the last moments I spent with Austin.

It was a rainy April morning where the day opened in pain. I was preparing to be Austin’s number one partisan that afternoon at his basketball tournament. I nonchalantly walked down to the living room to greet my parents as I discerned their morose facial expressions.

“What’s going on?” I questioned with bemusement.

“Your father and I have something to tell you…” My mother sullenly commenced, “We are moving to Virginia when you finish this school year. You’ll be starting high school there. Your father-“

My mother’s voice trailed off into the distance and was replaced by my own thoughts. Anguish overpowered me as I jolted the door open and ran over to the lieu I felt comfort in.

Knock Knock. The knock sounded heavily on the wooden door, as it pounded heavily on my heart.

As soon as Austin opened the door, I could no longer force a mask of indifference on my face, as I had hoped to. I buried my face in his arms and muttered the words intertwined with ache and grief: I’m moving to Virginia next month. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t need to. I could see the pain, veiled, in his light blue eyes. For a moment, we both immersed ourselves in the cold silence of reality. The next month passed as fast as a hand wave from a distant house I could not come running to. When the inevitable moment of pain and reality came, my helpless voice was drowned out by the sharpness in my throat.

“We’ll see each other again. I promise.” Austin comforted me, as he has done for the past nine years.

“Promise me we won’t lose touch, okay?” I managed to choke out.

“I promise,” Austin replied.

“Take care of yourself. I know you will but-“ My voice was drowned by my tears.

I walked into the moving truck leaving behind pieces of me I could not retrieve. The moving truck slowly drifted away from the Texan house. The endless roads drew me into a new chapter in my life. I could feel that the distance will serve as an impetus for our separate paths. The thick air glossed with grief and tears surrounded me in the moving vehicle as I longed to catch Austin’s firm gaze. I closed my eyes as the new Virginian air clouded me in memories.

IV.
December 18, 2012
That was 2009. It is now 2012. Many things have changed. For me, for Austin, and for us. Our promises of keeping in touch even with the barrier of 1408 miles collapsed as the teenage years devoured our lives. Although we both didn’t want to admit it, our friendship was vulnerably fading away into the darkness of our childhood. Austin had gotten himself into an abyss, a direction of which I didn’t approve of. He was devoured by temptation and misconduct. His life was unwinding into a different path. His new life was dissolving any trace of the gentle Austin I knew and cherished. All attempts of struggling to hold onto the last strand of our connection had slowly ceased two years ago. Memories of the individual that touched me the most in my childhood had been almost extensively erased, until I laid my eyes upon the haunting words on the innocuous Facebook newsfeed:

17 year old boy. Shot. Last night. Instantly killed. No witness. Unknown murderer.

Myriads of ‘what ifs’ overcrowded my head, flooding my thoughts and surging them into guilt.

Is this somehow my fault? What if I hadn’t moved away at the time that I did? What if I had been there for him when he needed guidance in his life?

I longed to ask him and to plea for an explanation of his tragic death. Questions haunted my head as answers were sought. As pain conquered my soul, I could only bring myself to write those superficial words on the superficial website.

Rest in Peace Austin. I love you. You will not be forgotten.

His death, so sudden and unexpected, could only bring my unbearable emotions to be expressed in these 12 words. All I had left as evidences of nine years of friendship with the most genuine person I knew were memories and a Facebook status. But I know these words carry more meaning than any other words posted on his wall. Although our friendship has drifted in the last two years, I know he will always have a special place in my heart. I know he will watch over me and keep his promise. Austin, with twinkling blue eyes and a beautiful laughter, with each gentle touch that guided me and comforted me, began to drift away into a world of void and mortality.

Austin, you will not be forgotten.