To The Grave

Chapter 29. Winona. Day 136.

I walked down the hallway, my eyes still aching from crying all night. A body shuffled past mine. I looked up seeing the older kid that had walked in with the twins and Ferris. I turned, stopping in my spot, watching him open a door and escape inside.

I rushed for Ferris' room, pushing open the door. He was laying on the bed, his hair messy and his eyes red and dull. He rolled over, moving the pillow to cover his face. I slowly approached the other bed. My arm felt around, under the mattress. I turned, pulling it up. I pulled the sheets back, moving the pillows. A large handgun rested on the bed, beside a small shooter of Fireball. I grabbed it, rushing back to the hallway.

I found the door, tucking the gun in my waist line and adjusting the too large shirt I had stolen from my brother. I stood in front of it, unable to find the courage to open it. I was breathing quickly.

The door started opening. I jumped back, walking up to a door near by and slowly opening it. He turned down the hallway, heading towards the stairs. I followed him into the stairs, watching him turn to look at me.

I took a deep breath, "You were with my brother, at the mall. I just wanted to know how it happened. I mean- I don't know you but please."

He looked down at me with tired blue eyes. He shook his head, turning back down the stairs. I rushed down after him, stopping in front of him. "Please, he was my brother!"

He shook his head moving around me down the last bit of steps and out the door. I stood in the cold, empty stair well. Tears ran down my cheeks, dripping to the scuffed grey floor below me. I walked into the hotel lobby, seeing people rushing around to do their work.

The older kid marched for the doors to the outside world. I ducked back into the stair well, pushing open a red door with an exit sign over it. I ran for the front of the building, hiding behind the white SUV we'd driven here.

He pulled open the door of the truck on the other side of me. I rushed behind the large vehicle pulling the passenger door open. He looked up from his lap, dropping the pack of cigarettes. I pulled the gun out, slamming it against his cheek. I quickly grabbed the gun from his holster, tossing it into the back seat. He sat up, holding his cheek. His jaw hung open, as he stared at the gun pointing at his knee cap.

"It'll hurt, but it won't kill me." He whispered in a raspy voice.

"If I have to shoot you, I won't be planning on killing you. Without a knee cap, you can't walk, can't get away from the rotters."

He let out a small laugh. He started the car, pulling out of the parking lot. "You're pretty fucked up." He looked both ways before turning onto the main street, a useless habit.

I shrugged, looking at his overgrown curly hair. "The world will fuck you up." I looked around quickly. "Where are you going."

He moved quickly, grabbing the gun, spinning my arm around painfully so the gun pointed to me. He held his hand over mine, his finger ready to push mine down to kill me. He glanced back to the road, correcting his driving with his other hand.

"Your brother died like an idiot. He went back for something we didn't need and he got himself and his friend killed because of it." He pulled his finger away, allowing me to remove my hand from the gun. He pulled it away, placing it beside him, away from me.

I could feel my eyes starting to flood over, "You couldn't have told me that in the hallway."

He looked at me, pausing before opening his mouth. "I could've told you on a beach with the sun setting and it wouldn't have stopped it from hurting. At least out here, you can hit things and scream."

"Shut up." I whispered, pulling a cigarette from the pack. He grabbed a lighter from the cup holder, pushing it towards me. I grabbed it angrily from his grasp. He turned, getting onto an empty highway.

I looked around, feeling the cigarette between my fingers. The older kid let out a small sigh, "Why didn't you ask your other brother what happened?"

"He wasn't with him at the end. He didn't know until Holden told him." I muttered, lighting the cigarette, coughing hard on the smoke.

He looked at me, glancing back to the road, "I wasn't really with him at the end either. Randall was. There was maybe five minutes that he had with Randall."

"Did you talk to him at all?" The question escaped my mouth.

He laughed a little. "In case you haven't heard, I don't talk. Haven't spoken to anyone since the start."

"Why?" I whispered he question.

He shrugged. "Have you ever been lying in bed after a nightmare, but you're so scared you're shaking and you can't breath. You want to scream for your parents but you can't force the air out, you're just too scared." He asked, I nodded. "I never caught my breath."