#ts4series

Chapter 2

Somewhere, there's a version of him who lived an easier life, untouched by my shadow. Sometimes I wish we could have met in that world, where loving each other didn't demand such sacrifice. He kept living. I stayed away.

Lying here, I replay it all, wishing I'd given him peace.

In the moment, I was grateful you skipped school with me.

I truly did love him.

The trail was his idea, offered when my thoughts began to decay from the inside out. He promised the quiet there might keep my safe from myself, if only for a night. Always, he sensed when my mind was slipping beyond my grasp. I didn't know it would be the last place I ever felt truly held.

I knew deep down it would end up this way.

We never should have come here. Deep down, I always knew it. Still, on impulse, I led you forward, clinging to memories that still glowed with warmth and joy. Then came the sound, strange, almost beautiful, threading through the air, only I could hear. In an instant, my mind emptied, thoughts draining away until I was nothing but a hollow vessel.

I remember the warmth of your touch, turned cold.

?: " Oh, Quinny boy, how we've missed you "

Quentin: "What have you done? Why are you doing this?"

?: "Tsk Tsk Tsk…take a look for yourself, filth".

I dropped to my knees beside him, shaking him, calling his name, willing him back. His chest didn't rise, his hands didn't move, he was gone in every way I could reach. I tried again, harder, pressing, shaking, but it was pointless now.

Chapter 3

Quentin: "How long was I out? My head is splitting."

Mara: "Poor guy, come on, get moving. A shower might help."

Quentin: "Alright, but before anything else, you need to tell me, how did you manage to find me?"

Mara: "Does it really matter? What's important is that you're safe now. Let's get moving."

Everything still feels knotted in the nightmare. My head throbs, old memories clawing their way up from where I'd tried to bury them. I almost believed they weren't real. Yet Mara stands over me, as if she always knew where I'd be. I never told anyone, never asked for help, still, she found me. A cold prickle creeps along my back, right where the dream burned. Whatever's out there hasn't lost track of me.

We began walking towards a building on the lake

The place Mara leads me to feels familiar; I've been here before. The place I first visited upon entering this town. The one with the old lady, who kept staring at me like she knew something I didn't.

Mara waits until the bathroom door shuts and the shower starts running. "Mama," Mara calls softly, "I'm home. And the vermin came back just like you said he would."

Quentin: "Fuck, I smell like death warmed up. How long was I out?"

Mama: "My prayers have been answered finally."

Chapter 3

The shower was blisteringly hot; even with the cold nozzle wide open, steam clung to my skin like a second layer. Something smelled off, though, not a sharp stench, but a low, creeping scent of something scorched. Sulphur, maybe. I don’t remember that being there before.

Quentin: "Next time, I'm sticking to rivers."

I shoved my feet into my boots, barely bothering to dry off. Every second spent dressing felt like a second wasted as the acrid scent of burning drifted through the cracks in the floorboards.

(Visual: Quentin rushes down the carpeted stairs, his movements hurried and frantic.)

I hit the ground floor and paused. The sulphur wasn't just a scent anymore; it felt like a heat radiating from the room ahead. Voices hummed behind the door, a steady stream of chatter that ignored the stench of scorched earth filling the hallway.

(Visual: Quentin cautiously pushes open the heavy door, his hand resting tentatively on the frame as he peers into the dimly lit room.)

Quentin: "What the fuck? That’s not a baby, it’s just a doll."

Mara: "Quentin, do you ever miss him? Worry not, he’s here."

(Visual: Mara is seen cradling a lifeless doll in a room filled with candlelight and religious iconography.)

Quentin: "Your grief is a lie. Who are you to speak on his name?"

Sulphur flooded my throat as I pushed deeper into the heat, the air thickening into ash. Then, I saw them. A face from my past. Someone I thought hated me. They were suspended from a beam by their ankles, a raw scream tearing from their throat until the soot choked it into a pathetic, wet rattle.

Quentin: “Odilia?”

(Visual: The camera pulls back. Odilia hangs inverted, behind her, two towering sentinels in spiked sun-crowns stand guard, their hands raised in a ritualistic pose as embers drift through the basement.)

Chapter 3

You can't run forever. Fate doesn't need to hurry. It knows you'll circle back eventually.

My mother was told her body would never cradle life. So she sought mercy in sacred places, and something or someone answered her hunger.

Fate had closed its doors to her, but she found another way in. Comfort from a gentle pastor soon turned into something more, and by the time she realised what she had given him, he was no longer just her pastor…he was my father.

Pastor: "The pain is over. Two little miracles have been born."

We were mostly happy; Milo and I didn't stray too far from each other. At least within the walls in which we were born. Milo was taught to read, and I was taught to listen.

Milo: "Your day will come Quen, and you must be ready".

???: "Wake up; the scent of blood clings to your clothes. Get up and scrub it away, just as you were taught".