18/05/2010

O. Drake Bosco Hernandez standing by her body, head held high in dignity with tears strolling down his face, his gun resting on the desk holding the one unfired bullet he never had to use. His back ackes from the effort of holding still, keeping the shaking at bay, terrified of crumbling down. His chest unmoving, holding breath for more than a minute now, afraid of screaming. There's a knock on the door muffled by the barking of the animal which knows his master is no more. Another minute and the knocking continues, still no breath has been drawn. His mouth opens in surprise, sore of clenching his teeth, and his lungs expand as he gets called back to reality. He swallows. There's a key on the lock, the sound of dominated hills on the steps. Her red dress brushed the carpet as she walked. A pair of smooth naked arms he had never met before looped around O. Bosco's neck. Physics and logic said againts the existance of the three son now only two remain. Hope Platagenet died one non-special night clinging to his picture for dear life.

Dear Hope Plantagenet, rest in peace my friend.