His fists slammed against the stone again and again. Red stained his kunckles in small circles and produced spatter against the stone and dirt with every throw. The two colors mixed together as the rain washed them both away from the stone, always revealing what was underneath. His heartbeat was heard in his ears as he felt every pump his heart made. He felt the blood than ran through his veins.
His voice can hardly be heard between his sobs and hiccups. His throat contains a lump he can't seem to get rid of as his voice cracks past it. The clothes he wore were drenched all the way through, littering his skin with goosebumps. Shivers raked his body from the cold and heaving lungs. The wind failed to move a single strand of hair as the dark locks were plastered to the back of his neck and forehead. Rain dripped from his bangs into his already soaked eyes.
His blows gradually weakened against the stone and he slouched, unable to cry anymore. His chest had continued to struggle up and down with each gasping breath it created. His arms fell limp by his sides as he looked at the blood, his blood. Nothing ran through his mind at the time. Nothing but, 'why?'
Arms wrapped around cold stone as best as they could. Blood had tinted the already forming puddle red, though barely visible against the harsh colors of earth. His pale, cold skin touched the top of the stone as he had pressed his face and cheek against it. The cold was unable to be felt through clothes or skin. The feeling of nothing sank into him as his body slowly sank to the ground. The grip on the stone slipped until the boy's body was parallel with the ground.
Curled up and sleeves soaked with blood was how the body was found against the stone of the tombstone.
The question of why was never answered until the boy woke up, feeling light and warm. The surroundings were nothing familial until he heard a voice that he thought he'd never hear again.
And he was answered.