[Trigger Warning]
He knew something was wrong, he desperately wanted to know why.
Brent bolted right to his sister, suddenly infront and down to her level as he hugged her tightly. The younger was wailing onto his chest, her cries were muffled as he tried desperately to calm her down. Rubbing circles on the small of her back, giving out a soothing hush. It pained him to hear her like this.
His eyes frantically scanned the living room from the front door which wasn't even opened all the way. Where was their mother?
Winchestein's sobbing had reduced to a series of whimpers, she was holding onto her big brother for dear life. The trembling hadn't stopped and it didn't take long for Brent's mind to be run over by a train of unpleasant thoughts about what possibly happened. He had to get inside.
"Hey.. Do you know where mom is..?"
His tone was careful and soft once more, but his little sibling only gripped onto him tighter and it didn't seem like she's gonna let go anytime soon.
She started sobbing lightly again.
"No no I'm sorry. Please.."
He wiped his sister's drenched face with his palms after gently making her look at him properly.
"We should go inside now. Come on."
He still didn't understand why Winchestein was outside their home crying.
Maybe the stranger is here again. Did he make her cry? His blood boiled as he remembered the man talking to his mother, what if he hurt the both of them?
With his jaw clenched tightly, he grabbed the plastic he previously let go and nudged his little sister, indicating that they have to move and go inside.
She was hesitant but held Brent's hand as they cautiously entered their house. Not wanting to look up from the ground. He kept glancing to the kitchen, the bedroom and anywhere in the small house as they settled on their old couch.
The boy kneeled down infront of his sister again but grunts when he felt pain shooting from his knee. He had scraped himself in the rush of comforting his sister that he didn't feel it at first.
Trying not to make his sister worry, he did his best to ignore the sting. Taking her small hand in his, he squeezed lightly.
"I'll be back, okay?" He gave her the bag of goods before ruffling her hair and walking off in the search of their mother.
Unknowing as to why, Brent headed straight to the kitchen. His guts were confused, he didn't know how to listen to it, what it wanted him to do, or even what to do with himself. It was all twisted inside, it didn't feel good. He just wanted to get it out of him quickly. He didn't want it to linger anymore.
The kitchen was silent, the tupperware he left filled with the leftover dinner from last night was missing a few scoops.. but it bothered him that only a small portion of it had been taken out.. The bathroom was also empty. No one was there. The boy turned his attention to the bedroom door. It was closed.
He suddenly felt everything turn cold. It wasn't windy.. Was it going to be another cold night?
He approached the door slowly, nothing felt good about this. It was eating away at him. He had an idea of what might've happened but he hoped to God that wrong. He told himself that his mother was fine, he knew she was strong.
Finally, he attempted to open the door yet the knob was so cold that he flinched away from it. Didn't he close the windows last night..? He left it closed this morning. He knew he did.
Knowing he had to check this room.. It was his only hope from the worst, he took a deep breath and took a hold of the handle. Finally turning and pushing it forward. Revealing the room.
It was dimly lit with a weak lightbulb. His gaze immediately landed on a laying figure on the bed. The twisted feeling inside had left, his shoulders relaxed, and he gave out a long-held sigh of relief.
He walked over carefully and quietly as he didn't want to disturb her rest, she needed to regain all that energy. He sat next to her and observed her peaceful state. He was glad.
Realizing that she probably hadn't eaten anything for the day, he had to cook something for her so that she won't be too famished.
It was decided that it was a night for fish, he left the room and grabbed the canned sardines from their shelf.
Sardines with carrots sounded nice tonight. He decided to take some of the mashed potatoes and stored the rest in their styrofoam cooler.
While waiting for the carrots to finish boiling, Brent walked back to his little sister and patted her head. "You okay?" Sitting next to her.
Winchestein only gave a small refrained smile, unsure of what to answer.
"Don't worry, mom's just sleeping." He leaned back on his seat and took a deep breath.
His sister must've gotten too scared since he took too long in the market again. Putting an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her closer into a side-hug. "It's okay, I'm sorry little sis." They stayed like this a little for a few minutes.
He'll be there to protect her no matter what.
The boiling got a little louder so he hurried over to retrieve the diced and softened carrots. He then put a small pan on the flame, pouring over the canned fish to heat it up along with the starch and carrots.
In just another few minutes he was done 'cooking' already so he took a plate and poured the contents of the pan into it.
He took two other plates and served up their dinner for the night, bringing one to Winchestein who was patiently waiting and fiddling with her shirt. He smiled at her and put the food on the wooden coffee table in front of her.
"Eat a lot okay?" Holding the other plate on his other hand, he gave his sister a little boop on the nose before heading into the bedroom to wake their mother to eat.
Brent entered the bedroom with a slight unnerved feeling that he pushed away. "Mom?" He neared his mother's laying figure. She hasn't moved since.
"It's dinner, come on wake up." He nudged her by her shoulder a little, placing the plate he prepared for her by the foot of the bed.
He placed his hand on her arm, she felt cold. It didn't feel right. The feeling in his gut worsened, he held his mother's hand. Still cold. Squeezing it tight.
"Mom come on please. Wake up." His mouth started to dry out, not realizing that he was breathing through his mouth. Heart already rapidly racing, gears in his brain turning in haste.
"Please. Get up." Brent felt his eyes watering, he was in a cold sweat. Trying anything and everything he can just to make her get up and calm him down. Tell him that she was fine, that she was just deeply asleep. He wanted her to wake up.
It felt really cold, he wanted her to get warm again. He hoped that she'd at the very least move in her sleep. Just any sign from her would be enough.
Nothing.
His breathing was erratic. Turning around, trying to pinpoint what he needed. He needed to get help. He needed to get someone. Anyone.
Desperately, he ran outside and at the top of his lungs, cried out for help. He didn't care whoever it was that heard him, his mother needed help. She has to wake up.
People on the sidewalk stopped to stare. Some approached him as he helplessly begged for them to help his mom. Stream of tears continuously ran down his despaired face. A few neighbors and passersby rushed for their aid, Brent led them to where his mother laid lifeless.
One of the women ushered him out of the room as everyone else tried to rationalize and think of what to do. He could tell that they were also panicking.
He sat down next to his sister who was now crying too. Immediately pulling her in an embrace, both became a sobbing mess. The woman sympathetically looked at them, brushing their hairs in hopes of easing them. It didn't help much as they continued bawling their eyes out. Deep down, Brent appreciated the woman's gesture of comfort.
A small crowd gathered at their front porch, gossiping and asking each other what was going on. He didn't like it but he hoped someone would just help his mother, he gazed longingly at the bedroom door with a blurry vision. He wanted her to walk out of there and hug him and Winchestein.
He was still crying but he tried his best not to make it obvious to Winchestein. Resting his chin on his little sister's head, weakly heaving a deep breath. He looked at the distance, figuring out how him and his sister would get out of this situation.
Loud sirens came from outside and got louder as it neared. The crowd immediately dispersed as the men from the vehicle came rushing out. The tears still hadn't stopped, holding his weeping little sister close to him.
Tightly shutting his eyes, he didn't want to listen to any of this anymore. Still thinking of his mother, laying on the bed so peacefully. He just wanted to see her smile again, to tell him how proud she was. That he's helped her so much.
He heard several footsteps, only making his head face down and onto Winchestein's hair. Not bearing to look at the commotion. He felt hands on his back and head, softly patting him multiple times, assuming that it was the people that rushed inside with him.
After hearing the footsteps fade away along with the loud car, he slowly looked up and was greeted by hardly anyone. The small clump of onlookers had dissipated.
Brent weakly sobbed out. "I-Is she okay..?"
No one responded. Only sad looks from the few that had stayed.
"I'm sorry." The same woman as earlier spoke up.
It wasn't what he needed to hear, it isn't what he wanted to hear. It felt like everything in him had crumbled. He's already missing their mother's warmth, her voice, all of it. He wanted her back now.
"No." He managed to choke out, "They're taking her so they could help her, aren't they?"
Whimpering, he looked at the people around him for an answer.
"Right?" Again, no one dared to reply.
It wasn't fair.
He began to sob again. His sister hugged him tightly. They never wanted to let go. Brent knew that Winchestein was all that he had left.
The woman, saddened by the sight, gently put her hand on the boy's shoulder. "Stay with us for the night until we can figure out what we can do for you two."
The younger took a peek at the woman with sore, reddened eyes. He followed along, hesitant.
"You two can stay on our pull-out couch tonight." She offered them.
"Pull-out..?" He cautiously asked, confused but he had his guard up, his eyes were puffy and voice became hoarse from the wailing. Though, salty drops were still dripping from his chin.
"It's a couch that can be made into a cozy bed." A man from the side suddenly said.
The blonde woman nodded along, "You two must be hungry."
The panic had sent Brent into a frenzy that he didn't even notice anything during the period. Then he remembered the food he made for his mother. Making him bite the inside of his cheek, trying to prevent himself from bursting into tears again.
"I.. made dinner for us but.." He trailed off, choking back the sobbing.
The woman swept his bangs to the side, then rubbing the younger's back reassuringly.
"Come on, you two deserve some rest." She stood up and held out a hand for him. Which he reluctantly took after calming down a little and giving it a thought.
He didn't want him and Winchestein to be alone in the bed tonight. He knew that they had to accept what had already happened. Being just the two of them where their mother had finally rested would make them break a lot more.
His chest tightened at the memory of the moments they had with her. Including the one just last night. He felt like his throat was wrapped with a barbed wire. It hurt.
Slowly letting go of the hug, he wiped his sister's face with the hem of his shirt and took her hand in his, looking at the blonde woman.
She followed a man close behind. They did so too. Assuming that they were a couple.
Brent took one last glance of their home, their open bedroom door. His face filled with dread. He couldn't bear to look at it much longer.
"Take all the rest you need, mother."
Silence had finally enveloped the now empty house. The only things left in it were two of the plates of food that the boy had proudly prepared.
Footsteps can be heard coming towards the house. It was a man in a suit, speaking on his phone. He halted as he reached the front,
staring at the empty house, the door was left cracked open and the lights were all off.
A voice can be heard coming from the phone.
"What's the condition of their mother?"
The man replied, "Deceased, sir."
A chuckle can be heard from the man on the other line.
"Then take them."