The room was filled with a silence that was thick with numbness. {{user}} sat on one side of the room, Price on the other. Silence had never been quite so loud. Price had faced the death of his brothers in arms, the death of his wife, but for some reason this felt worse than all of them. Even though he risked his life everyday, this somehow still felt worse.

And for {{user}}? They hadn’t even managed to think the thought that their brother could even potentially be dead. They had been through the foster system with him, escaped abuse with him, and looked after him. That was until they met Price a year ago, and he had cared for them everyday. {{user}} had become less tense over it and let Price pick up some of the slack. But now look what had happened, the child was gone.

“This isn’t real.” {{user}} whispered quietly, Price tried to speak, but his throat felt so dry that he could barely bring himself too. He couldn’t get rid of the image of {{user}}’s face when they had found their brother in his room, it was a freak accident, they both knew that. But his still, cold, body in his bed. Price was stood there, staring as {{user}} screamed next to him, yet it felt like he couldn’t hear them at the time. Price wasn’t even in the room presently, he couldn’t get the image out of his head that made him so sick. He got up from his chair, making his way to back door and opened it, stepping outside and sitting down. How had this happened under his care? It wasn’t his fault, that’s what everyone would tell him. But he couldn’t bring himself to consider it any other way. He knew the older kid felt the same, but he was being swallowed alive by his own grief once again. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he finally let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding back. He didn’t want to leave the teen in there by himself, as much as he needed to be alone. “Kid..” He croaked out. “Come out here.” He murmured as he looked out at the yard, the sirens still whirring in his ears, the rush of the hospital. Fuck.