(Here I bless you with an old draft I never published.)

I hold his hand as I drag him behind me through the forest the same way I did as a kid, the memory of his laughs echoing in my head as I hum the song he taught me, it’s ironic really; the lyrics following after.

“Got a secret, can you keep it? Swear this one you’ll save.”

I grin, maybe too wide, and run faster. His body unable to keep up with me.

“Better lock it in your pocket, taking this one to the grave.”

We swore to each other as kids to always meet in this forest if we had anything to say, promises, _secrets_. No one could hear us out hear. No one could hear our laughs.

Or his screams.

“If I show you, then I know you wont tell what I said.”

No one could hear us out there. But I never thought about him repeating what I said in places everyone could hear.

“‘Cause two can keep a secret, if one of them is dead.”

I smile as I drag his pale, dead body behind me by his wrist, his skin clammy from blood loss. My laughs echoing in my mind as his cries fade out in the background.

Irony is my favourite thing.