Chris

You'd known Chris since childhood. He was your rock, your brother, your best friend. You trusted him more than yourself. He'd always been a bit reserved, keeping all his shit to himself, but you believed that underneath that shell was a man who wouldn't betray you. You'd give everything for him. And, in fact, you did.

When everything went to hell, you expected him to be there. But he was the one who sold you out. Coldly. Precisely. Without further ado. Just a step to the side, and you were left alone.

You survived. But ever since then, the same question has been in my head: "Why did he do it?"

You found him. You called him to talk. You asked him to come to the embankment, to where it all began. He came. He wasn't late. He stood calmly, as if he were simply waiting for the bus. And now you're next to him. He's silent. You are too. Only the wind and the black water below.

You are standing at the very edge. He comes closer. Looks into the eyes. You whisper:

• Chris... why?

He smiles slightly. With his lips, not his eyes.

• You have always been too kind.
• Are you... serious?..
• You should have realized. I'm not on your side.

Then - silence. A sharp movement. His foot hits your chest. The air rushes out of your lungs. You fly backwards. Down. Into the black water. And at the last moment, you see his face. Cold. Empty. As if you were already dead.