I knew this place. I knew it, but not well. Somehow, I knew it was not my own. The man was here. The blond man. And two women in scrubs. One of them had helped him put me in the wheelchair, the other was walking him through paper work. The first woman in scrubs was humming and putting my feet into the fluffiest socks that I had ever seen. Were they mine? Did they come with the room? Was this some kind of spa or hotel?

"You're going to be alright, Georgia," the man murmured, coming to stand in front of me. Milo, his name was Milo. I didn't understand why I couldn't remember that. But I couldn't remember why I was here either.

"We'll take good care of her. I promise," the nurse said, cocking her head to offer me a little smile. It was a little too sad to be genuine though. "I just can't believe that her parents went so fast and so close together. And there were no signs either."

My parents. My parents were dead. My father who had the sweetest crowsfeet around his eyes from smiling and laughing through all of his years. My mother who hated that she hadn't gotten him a proper regiment early enough. They were gone. Dead. Were they already buried in plywood, six feet under?

That's where I was. I was in their room. This was the home I had put them in. and now it was my turn. Because I was sick, just like they had been. Would I die like they did?

I was dancing. The forest was spinning around me at a dizzying rate, but I wasn't concerned that I was moving too fast or that my partner couldn't keep up. He would always keep up with me.Tthe strong arms wrapped around my waist were a testament to that. He was there, ready to catch me when I stumbled and tumbled.

"I want to dance forever," I said to the spinning sky above me.

"I will dance with you as long as you wish," he murmured back.

Silver eyes that sang like pure mercury. A perfect mouth that could have told me a thousand promises. Cheekbones that were cut front the finest stone.

"Stay with me. Please. I don't understand what is happening to me. I need you with me," I begged.

He was slipping. I could feel him getting thinner under my fingers. I could cling to the fabric of his jacket, but it wouldn't stop him from going. I didn't know how I knew this would be over, but something was calling to me. Something was drawing me away. I didn't want it. Nothing could be more important than being here.

"I'm staying," the man whispered back. "But you need to leave."

I blinked at the world around me. It was a church with all of the wooden pews and the statues of a man on a cross and the priest in the robes. Maybe I had known this place at one point, but I didn't know it now. And I didn't know all of the people I was seeing either. But I knew what all of the black meant. And I knew the two faces staring out at the crowd from photographs. My parents. The funeral. It had come and I wasn't even sure how.

A blond mop moved on my left. Milo, it was Milo.

A priest was droning on. "A loving father who would have moved mountains for his children, for anyone in need."

I didn't want to be here. No child ever wanted to go through their parents' funeral. No matter if it was the natural course or not. But no child should have to blindly watch the funeral pass by either. I should have been up there. I should have picked the flowers that mom loved, should have brought her special vase. I should have driven the old Subaru here listening to the music my dad had loved. And I should have been telling all these people – nursing staff, ex-coworkers, family friends, relatives – just what they missed out on when they left. I should have reminded them what my parents would have done for them. I should have felt tears pooling, felt my lips trembling, felt the words get stuck in my throat.

My dad was a great father and he would have moved mountains. But he was so much more than that priest would ever realize. I should have been telling everyone that.

But I just sat in the stupid wheelchair that I now needed because I couldn't command any part of myself. And my body refused to feel anything while my mind begged for release.

I willed myself to go back into my dreams. I wanted to feel those arms around my waist, even if they weren't real. I wanted that handsome man to tell me that everything was okay. I would believe him. I would let myself to believe every lie that he spewed. I would spend the rest of my life in that forest if he would let me. Because being here felt worse than being dead.

My dad was gone. My mom was gone.

I never got to tell them goodbye. I never thought I would have to.

I made it through the whole funeral. Milo stayed by my side the entire time, his hand fluttering over top mine or reaching back to rub my shoulders sometimes. There were brief moments when tears would fill his eyes and I had never been so envious of anything in my entirety. These were my parents. I needed to cry. I needed to sob until my throat hurt. I wanted to scream. I wanted to beg any god that would listen that I needed my parents back. But I could not.

The funeral ended.

Some people tried to approach me. I didn't recognize any of them, though clearly they knew me. I wasn't sure if it was my dead expression – the same one that I had seen on my parents for years – that scared them away or if it was Milo at my back that did.

But one man was brave enough.

"Georgia?"

There was no fog to get through to place the man in front of me. Despite the fact that we had spent year apart, I knew him right away. I had screamed my lungs out at him for having his music too loud. He had cursed me for taking forever in the bathroom in the mornings. And he had run when things had gotten hard. But the boy who ran was not the man in front of me now. This man came with carefully combed hair, a pair of thick glasses, and a pretty wife holding his hand.

"She won't respond to you," Milo said flatly, but his hand came down to stroke my hair.

"Fuck, she's like them, isn't she?"

Milo sighed. "Yes, it would seem so."

If there was supposed to be some kind of heart warming reunion between me and my brother, it died when he recoiled backwards. It was the same expression he wore when mom had stared at him, unable to recall his name. not quite disgust, not quite horror, but something in between and just as ugly as both.

"Christ, have they found anything out about it? Is it genetic?"

Milo had far more patience than I did. By now, I would have been foaming at the mouth with rage. He was here, at my parents' funeral, like had had any right to mourn now. He had mourned years ago when he decided to leave us all behind. He had all those years to come to terms with what he had lost while I had chatted to people who couldn't hear me, wiped drool from chins, brushed hair, found care. He hadn't even sent a postcard or letter to mom and dad. He could have at least called me to tell me that he had gotten married.

"It's not genetic. They don't know where it comes from, but you're safe," Milo assured, though there was a little spike to his voice.

"Right well, we need to be leaving then. Lenora is scheduled to perform surgery first thing tomorrow morning so we don't want to be missing our flight."

The pretty little wife smiled at me. "It was lovely to meet you, Georgia."

She must have thought that I was deaf too because there wasn't an ounce of truth to her words.

As soon as they left, someone else took their spot. Just a single man this time. Eyes red from irritation and an utterly massive specimen.

"Georgia, I'm so sorry for your loss," he rumbled. His voice was deeper than any I had ever heard, almost a rasp in the ears.

His voice tugged at something within me, but I still couldn't place it. He adjusted his body so he was eye level with me and took both of my hands in his own. His palms were so large that I suddenly felt small and feeble in comparison. He sucked in a small breath, his eyes shutting for the briefest second. Anyone else might have thought he was trying to hold back emotion. Somehow, I knew it was different. And when he released me and straightened, he looked completely stricken.

"Let me know if you need any help. My name is Sebastian. I've been a family friend for some time," the man explained, handing over a small piece of paper to Milo.

Milo took it graciously, but the second Sebastian turned his back, Milo balled it up and tossed it aside.  

~~~Distraction Section~~~

Bonus update because we crossed 50,000 reads! And because you guys pester me mercilessly. But seriously, I love looking back at these little notes after months. I re-read Hades from time to time and marvel that I went from a few thousand to a few million over night!

Question of the Day: Do you work better from home or in office? 

I work better at the office, but really appreciate the option to work from home. When the weather turns bad or I have a boring task, the chance to turn on a movie and do lazy work is a blessing.