Gemma POV

A gust of wind swept the room, listening to the front door entrance bounce off the spring stopper. "Gemma." Quinn's careful sound bounces off the walls through the home. He found my empty shell of a body incapable of turning with the world on the sofa, kneeling in my presence. "Hey, what happened?" He attempted to bring me to talk, but I could not respond. I couldn't get past how this universe decided to devour my soul.

Things happen for a reason, but what is the reason for death away from a loved one? "Come on, let's leave before our parents show." He lifts me into a cradle position, and the house entrance opens again.

"Gemma!" My mom's voice blared, finding us shortly after in the living room. "Thank God you are alright." With a feeble glance, I see her holding her chest. Then I saw John standing behind, giving me a sickening stare, proving he didn't give a damn about what he had done. The rage creeps in, electrifying through my body as a thunderbolt.

"YOU!" I conjure up the energy, screeching throughout the home. I shoved Quinn off and charged him, swinging. "How could you?" I had an outburst bass in my voice of pouring anger filling up my glass.

"Gemma, stop this!" Gwen wrapped around my waist, dragging out of the commotion. Overpowering her attempts, shoving her off. I was jabbing his chest, yanking on his collar, scratching his neck like a wildcat.

"Calm down!" My father blocked, capturing my wrist as my brother towed me from him, playing tug of war with my body, except I'm the one who is drawing to attack the lying backstabber.

"Why would you do this? Screw you." Quinn tore me elsewhere, carrying me over his shoulder, but I kicked and twisted my torso to break loose. He lurched out of the house, lifting my wild movements as I tussled with him to get to John. "I'll kill him. I'll kill-" tossed in the backseat. The door slammed behind as I sobbed, and he vaulted into the driver's chair through the open window.

"We're going back to Telluride." he speeds away, and with this anger of hopelessness, I turn to the poor seats, booting it with force, getting crazier by the second, spasming out.

"Why would he do this?" My energy drained, bawling like a toddler, resting my head on the seat, exhausted, staring at the carpet with paper specks and outside leaf crumbs. "He is gone, Quin. He's gone." I choked up, cracking through my words. The disbelief and then the realization that it is real isn't similar to any other pain I have ever experienced, almost out of body how numb I am.

We have been languishing in the van for a week in Telluride, Town Park. Clean air, lush green trees, and potent creeks. The delicacy of this earth means nothing to me but flying scraps along an alleyway. Quinn's responsibilities are piling up. The stress that occurs when he searches for food, but he comes through, providing simple meals, cereal bars, and water. Our situation activates his protective mode.

I haven't seen him sleep. He is becoming desperate, lashing out at crude bystanders who aren't willing to offer support. Which is fine, but I know his pride is voluntarily dipping in acid. The days I sought to help, I got shut down and preached that I needed to grieve to operate justly. He discovered used blankets in a trash bin, so we were washing them at a local washateria with a few quarters he found between the car seats and under floor mats.

I wish I could assist, but because of his demands, I can not budge despite my mind urging me to. What's the point? I lost everything. How do you cope with that? I want to move instead of bearing this cutout in my heart. I think he sees that. He wants me to go through it.

"John just transferred guilt money into my bank account." Quinn held a matte black and silver card in the air between his fingers as we sat on a bench outside of Value Community Washateria. That's where he snuck off to earlier. "And they left a note saying they love us." He dropped it in my lap. A postcard from our family vacation that we took at Georgia Aquarium.

"Love is fleeting, like our will to sleep."

He grasps my hand with a firm squeeze. "Everything is going to be alright. Let's get a room to figure out our plans." I choose to stay quiet. "I told Bora's mom, Malinda, what happened between our parents they had no clue about. She is meeting us to help work things out." He keeps communicating as I phased out to the mountains ahead, following the pines flow up the slopes. We used to travel through these trees, but now you're long gone.

Damn it, Bora, stubborn. Why did you have to go on your own?

"Gemma, did you hear me?" He called. Instead, I noticed the gas station across the street. It was the first day I arrived here. Where it all began. The time I found you again. My throat closed up, and the surrounding air was feeling thin. I sniffed, trying to fight the stuffiness. The more I inhale, the more suffocating it swells. Anxiety sets my gut ablaze, inducing a faint twinge and tightness in my chest.

I can't breathe... I can't breathe. I wheezed. "Help me move." I clasped Quinn's arm. "Help me, BREATHE!" I screeched, startling him. I dash towards the trees, delirious by cars straggling into the parking lot. A haste dip on the uneven pavement wavered my balance, but quickly caught myself and jetted across the road in tears. I ran and did not tend to where I was running to. The warm air clogged my throat, scratched, easing out of breath, but I didn't care. I want my life back.

A gray SUV blocked my path as I halted, combing my scalp, somewhat breathing, and toiling to grasp the ringing atmosphere. I hollered because I couldn't, cursing the mountains. I kept screaming, hoping I could just wail out of my pain. A hand snatches me into a hug, and I laid my forehead on her shoulder, healing from a dewy silk rose aura on her blouse.

"Why him? Why?" I passed weakly to my knees as she descended with me. She smoothed my curly hair. "It will be alright, Gemma, breathe." Malinda whispers in a motherly expression, calming my troubles as the energy inside wholly burns out.

"Hobbit?" She handed me over to Quinn, who enclosed me in a hug like a bandage. It's not enough. He is still gone, and he's not coming back. I ripped away from him to sit on my legs, crying to the ground. I peered at both of them through the harshness of the bright sun.

"To hell with it all."

My brother lifted his arms, intertwined his palms, resting them on the top of his head, pacing. Malinda stayed with me, watching me unfold with her hands on my shoulder, sharing the same pain as mine, but no tears shed. The coldness underneath my legs cools my body as the vibration of the cars passes by. Moving is impossible, and the waterfalls don't stop, allowing numbness to expand to the tips of my fingers. Engulf me. I'm not leaving until this world bends for me and shows me differently.

Quinn's voice resonated through our shared room, carrying the animated discussions with the realtors to secure a suitable place. Malinda has been urging me to take care of myself, supporting my fall outs, talking me through my most arduous times. Stripping off my garments, jittery, I lower my frail body into the soothing warmth of the tub. Why move when he isn't? If there was for one second, if I had thought there was the slightest possibility of ending like this, I would snort at myself from the farce. Who wants to follow the steps into believing it?

She enters the bathroom with a large folded towel dangling on her arm. "Gemma." She called, but I couldn't find the energy to try. "I will leave soon, and I know you're in pain, and I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but you can't stay here. This empty state. Find a way to move on." She dropped it on me as though I was a burden, but she's been doing that this entire time. The way she has handled this entire ordeal must have a lot to do with her not being human.

"How can you say that? He's your son, Malinda."

"That's why I am the one telling you." Her words brighten my mind in realizing she is dealing with an injured husband, a son who's gone and through it all, she stands holding a towel for me. Nothing hurts more than a mother's agony. I understand her perspective now, but it doesn't help. it just gives her room to grieve. It bruises, but I have to be okay for the sake of her and Quinn.

"I'm scared." I shattered into leaks of uncertainty and an unfamiliar place that is too soon to want to explore, and, like before, she hugs me. The rest of the night, I took a late stroll to tackle how I will maneuver in this world while nostalgic memories periodically bring me to tears. His laughter and playfulness that I could relive on replay. Times alone didn't live along long enough. None of it is fair. The cruel standards of life treating us.

Days and nights in the hotel, Quinn has a plan. "We're moving to Colorado Springs. Boniface area to settle."

I agreed, not that I cared. We hauled our baggage, throwing my suitcase and haversack in the van's rear, barring the door. My phone's been quiet. I am kind of surprised I haven't received a phone call. It's unnerving. I'm still unsure what I want from them, except for a damn explanation. At least I deserve that, and was it worth bursting my heart?

"I'm heading back to Adam. Will you two be alright?" Malinda asked, heaving a canvas hobo bag on her shoulders. The only woman I can depend on to hold up in all this mess.

"Of course, Mama Wolf." Quinn flings his arms around her neck with a good squeeze. She chuckles and shoves him off, giving a light jab in the side. He wavers, pretending to be injured, and grins, entering the driver's seat, leaving us alone.

"Will you be alright?" her tone melts as though to not trigger me.

"Yeah." I nodded, hugged her, and we parted ways, waving our goodbyes.

https://youtu.be/qNc0c7q7Umw