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James' POV

I grabbed my wallet. I'm going back. Back to where it all began...and back to where it ended.

It's impossible to think it's been four years since he died. Four years since I heard him laugh or see him smile. Four years since I told him I loved him.

All the good memories are blocked behind the last thing I heard from his lips; that awful, awful scream. The scream that jolts me awake at night, sweaty, sobbing and clinging to the sheets.

I walked out the door. My parents don't care where I go anymore. I set off for the train station head down, hands in pockets and my iPod playing MUSE loudly.
It's only a five minute walk to the station and I push my way to the desk, forcing through the notoriously famous New York rush hour. I pay for my ticket and board the alloted locomotive. I sat at the back, hiding in my hoodie, not wanting to be looked at in any way shape or form.

I looked at the ticket in my hands, smiling as I read the print:
BELLVILLE, NJ.

I'm going home.