It was the kind of promise friends make to each other, yet how could he do that, knowing what his friend had done. A bond that had once been as unbreakable as the blood brother oath they'd taken as kids, was now shattered. The illusion of promise broken and cold, buried under a shroud of dirt and grass. Shaking his head he dropped to his knees at the graveside. Tears shone in his eyes as rain soaked his hair dripping down his face as sorrow and pain became the dominant emotions warring for control of his face. Choices...that's what they all had. The freedom to make that choice, but Shooter had made the wrong choice and now he was dead. They'd promised to be there! To always defend the little man, but Shooter had taken that promise made in friendship and killed it with the worst kind of betrayal. The picture of two boys flashed through his mind and he opened his hand. The knife was there, the one they'd used to cut their thumbs and mix their blood. Now instead of good memories it held nothing, but anger. Using his fingers he dug a hole in the freshly dug grave and let the gift fall from his hand before covering it with cold earth.
"I forgive you, Shooter, but can you ever forgive yourself?" Hart asked as he stood up. As promised he would always come back to this grave, after all, it was the kind of promise friends make to each other!