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For those of you that play FallOut: New Vegas: yes, I did indeed copy the title of Boone's first mission with him to find out who sold his wife. But this isn't about the game or Craig Boone, as awesome as they both are, but is about a terrible day in my life that I can never forget. It's been three years since my brother was murdered, but not many of my guy friends care because they're usually thinking about being with me and hate any guy that had touched me before. stare Typical guy bullshit.... I love my friends and significant others, but if your brother/best friend was murdered, shouldn't you be given some sympathy or at least them sounding like they don't hate his guts even though he's dead?!

....

Sorry about that. Anyways, this story is very sad and not for all people. There are some very gruesome details and I'm not going to sugar coat anything just because you can't take it. I warned you, so here it goes...

Another boring day as a sophomore at high school. Nothing special but when I get to fourth period, we always got a break because it was two hours worth of history that most of us already knew. I was sitting next to my best friend Zack, who was making me laugh so hard I was crying with some of his little tricks to cheering me up from a bad day. Well, I texted during school but usually not too much. Well... I wish that I hadn't read the next message that I got. I was from my surrogate brother's sister, Lisa, and all she wrote was 'David's dead.'

My heart stopped. It couldn't be true. David was my brother, my best friend, the one person that could protect me if I needed help getting away from my nightmares... I texted her back and asked her what had happened and she said that he had been hit by a drunk driver. Now fury set in as murderous thoughts coming from Siren enveloped my entire body. Some drunk skank couldn't order a taxi and decided that she could drive herself home.... But Rage didn't come and stay. I felt my gut sink and then all of the pain of lossing him came rushing into my body. David... My brother... gone forever... I started to convulse as if I was going to vomit and ran from the room just as everyone was called back in. My friend Zach asked the teacher if he could check on me and then he followed. He held me as I screamed in sorrow and agony. At one point, my teacher asked if he needed to call the nurse up to where we were and I just said no.

When I got home, I went into the basement of my house, which was my room for the longest time, and started to blast music as I cried for hours. I couldn't think or breath right.... I had to call Lisa and ask her for more details. It was terrible. She said she'd send me pictures of the accident but she didn't want me to see them. I told her that the images in my head were probably far worse than any photo of what she could show me... I was very, very wrong.

Oh, God, was I wrong. The photos she showed me were of the accident and of... what was left of David... Those images are seered into my mind for as long as I live...The only thing I recognized was a few rings I knew he wore, his favourite necklace that I gave him for his going away gift, and the shirt for Linkin Park: Meteora he had on that night. They found pieces of him down the rode where the b***h had first hit him... Even one of his eyeballs... She had ripped open his stomach, but thank God his insides weren't trailed across those two-hundred feet or I don't think I would have ever stopped vomitting that month...

They didn't have an open casket, but even if they did, I don't think anyone could have looked. I was banned from going to the wake and the funeral by his mother, who was and still is mentally unstable. The kind of unstable to the point that she had sexually assaulted him at night, so he came to my house to get sleep.

I really didn't believe in ghosts and I didn't want to believe that he hadn't passed on, but... I don't know... something in me was selfish and cried out to him every now and then for him to come back to me... On his birthday, October 10th, I swear that I felt an arm wrapped around me in almost a hugging embrace, like he always had done when my alarm went off and we had to get ready for school. I couldn't stop crying that day because it felt like he was with me. Either standing next to me and holding my hand, or having his arms around me as I sat in class. I wasn't crying because I was sad though. I was crying because I was happy that he was there with me on his birthday.... Every year since, on his or my birthday, I always feel that hug and presence. I love it and never forget it, just like I'll never forget him. On his murder anniversary, Lisa, his older brothers Steven and Jonathen, and myself go to the river in the woods at night and light four candles on plastic boats with flowers on them and tell him we miss him and hope he's kicking a** wherever he is.

In loving Memory of David Gromt