He creeps into the quiet room, his body trembling slightly. The walls are white, the floors are grey, and the ceilings are stained with mildew. The door is made of cold steel, and it shuts quietly as his numb, trembling fingers left the handle.

"Take your time, son," his father says quietly beside him. He nods silently, and begins to approach the table in the middle of the room.

She is so beautiful, yet so pale. A thin blue sheet covers most of her emaciated body. He looks at her eyes, closed by the lost battle against her sickness, his curse. His eyes flicker over her lips, a strange bluish purple.

In life, she was so frail. She was a delicate creature, a frangible reminder of how weak we humans truly are. But in death, she seems more fragile than a thin piece of glass.

He reaches out to her, his heart thumping harder by the second. He is afraid, so afraid to touch her, as if by touching the reality of her death will crash down upon him and he will be left broken and empty.

Her cheek is cool and waxen, and he swallows hard as he strokes it gently. He feels his heart begin to calm, and his tears, ever threatening to flow, evaporate.

But just as his sorrow seems to find closure, a drop of crimson appears, just barely peeking out from her nose. It slides down from her nostril, followed by a scarlet fountain, staining her pale face with blood.

He pulls his hand from her cheek as if he were touching hot steel. His mouth opens, and he seems about to scream or wail. His father steps forward, pity and pain in his eyes as his own heart breaks.

His mouth closes, and he turns away from his heartbreak, pushing down his swelling grief. The tears subside again and he opens the cold steel door, and flees the building that holds the source of his pain and sorrow, his dear mother.

Outside, the air is cool and damp, for a storm is about to come. He looks into the grey skies, his heart as heavy as the clouds above him. He wishes he could melt to the ground, like the rain, and find solace beneath the earth.

The first drop falls to the ground, though it does not come from the sky.

"Charlie," a soft, pain-filled voice whispers. He looks up, and sees the soft brown eyes of his brother.

"I-" Words are cut short as two burdened souls embrace. Tears fall faster from two pairs of eyes, dampening two shoulders.

There is nothing to cease their pain, nothing to warm their souls. They cling to each other, like two children drowning in an ocean of sorrow.

But at least they drown together.

FINIS