<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Reno's heart beat hard against her ribs, faster, and faster yet. It hurt, the reverberating sickness in her chest, the nausea swimming in her throat. If she could have run she would have- far from here, far from her father, from her brother -<i>no, no, no, she can't call him that, not now, not after..- </i>from this fucking graveyard and this fucking town. But her legs were shaking and numb and... and... and...<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly, she was immobile. Not because of her inability to find feeling in her muscles but because she was enveloped. Her fading consciousness had dimmed her awareness and it wasn't until his arms were fully around her that she fully realized what was happening. <br/>
<br/>
She remembered this feeling. Too well. The slow thump of his own heart, the feeling of his fingertips against her skin, the rhythmic lull of his breaths... it brought her back to childhood, to dimly lit bedrooms and bad dreams, to being carried home after a romp in the woods, to saying goodbye in the morning- <i>but not goodbye for good, baby sister...</i><br/>
<br/>
Not a single one of the residents who attended the funeral had dared touch her, as if she would plague them with her bad luck. As if she were a ghost. But Volk- <i>fucking Volk and his goodbyes- </i>there wasn't a second thought. He had lost his right to hug her years ago, and yet here he was, brushing the tears from her blush-red cheeks and pulling her into him. The little girl inside of her wanted to lean into it, beg him to play with her hair and not let go, even if his arms began to ache. But she wasn't a little girl anymore, she <i>couldn't be</i>, not now. If she had any intention of wrestling from his grasp, however, she wasn't showing it. She fell limp. She didn't fight it, or accept it- simply gave in and gave up. He was much stronger, he always had been. In youth, he had allowed her to 'win', let her be the one to pin him down for once- but in truth, if he wanted to, he could snap her.<br/>
<br/>
And maybe that's what was happening. Maybe this was his cruel way of showing her that he had won. Everything that she had loved had not only dissipated, but had been ruined for her. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Ren</i>- he said her name like he had never left, as if they were going to pick up right where they left off. He said her name as if it were candy, something for him to savor, something that belonged to <i>him</i>. The way he held her, it was as if he never let go. As if it had all been a nightmare and she was waking up now, to him, to his calm words telling her to go back to sleep, that it was <i>okay</i>. As if he were still the Volk she knew- the boy she had come to adopt as her older brother. It was a twisted thought now, after all of it, to think that he could even resemble a sibling. But she still wished it could be like that, again. She had, for years. The family around her were all voids, now, empty echoes- her mother, estranged. Her father, dead. And her brother, here and not here all at the same time. <i>Stop, Reno, don't call him that- brother...  he can't be... he never was.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh</i> but he <i>was </i>and how it stung her to know this, she ached for him, the old Volk, the brother before the mess. <br/>
<br/>
"He wouldn't have wanted you here," she ignored his teasing, she had gotten good at that as a child, "<i>I- </i>I don't want you here," but now her certainty wavered, she meant it to be a statement but it sounded more like a question and between her sobs it was hardly audible, anyhow.<br/>
<br/>
"You shouldn't touch me, Volk," it wasn't nearly convincing enough. </span>