Gracie stood silently and alone on a chilly, grey-skied day at the grave. She walked to the next one, then to the one after that. Four graves in all. It had been almost year since it had happened. A year from the day Gracie tried to forget.
The day she and four boys from school got drunk. The day the four boys got too close and too personal. The day Gracie got carried away. The day the four boys were killed. The day Gracie would never talk about.
As Gracie moved from grave to grave, she noticed how quiet the cemetery had gotten. The only sound was the wind that eerily whispered in Gracie's ear. When she got to the fourth grave, she noticed an empty grave being dug next to it. Carefully, she stepped away, not wanting to accidentally fall in.
Gracie suddenly spun around, thinking she heard footsteps. Seeing no one, Gracie turned back around to the empty grave. The gravestone read 'SMITH' in a dull, bold font. Gracie shuddered. Her last name was Smith, too. She turned around again, thinking she heard more footsteps, this time with a metal 'think' of a shovel. She went back to looking at the graves when she felt something icy on her back, and a quick shove.
Gracie landed hard in the grave, but before she could get up, the dirt began to pile up around her from above. Her world was closing in on her; the dirt was making it hard for Gracie to breathe. The very last thing Gracie ever saw was the boys from the day.
The day they were killed almost a year ago.