Quinn Francine had never been one to cry, always being someone to breath through it all and let it go, but after reading the letter Sicily had written her…. She couldn’t help but sit here and sob.

Saltly tear drops ran down her rosacea covered cheeks and onto the piece of cream colored parchment. With each teardrop that fell from her grey eyes, the more the ink on the page bled. That only made her cry more, how wonderful… just wonderful.

Her glassy eyes read over the entire letter one more time, just once more she promised herself, although she knew she’d be reading it many more times.

‘𝑴𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒔 𝑰 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒚. 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕. 𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏... 𝒐𝒉, 𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔. 𝑰 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒚. 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰'𝒎 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆; 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝑰 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒆. 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒈𝒐, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇𝒇 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒔... 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝑰 𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔. 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕, 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒈𝒐, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒖𝒑 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆. 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖. —𝑺𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒚'

Another sob racked through Fran, her shoulders shaking as she slid back against the wall to keep herself from falling like an idiot. She knew her life was far from prace, all the fights and war spoke for itself, and she knew Sissy had been longing and needing the oeace and respite from all the suffering she had been through, but she hadn’t expected this. Anything but this.

Eventually, she set the letter down, tucking her locs behind her ears as she gathered up the courage to stand, only hoping she wouldn’t fall. Her legs felt like jelly, but she stood nonetheless, and she was sure her brain had been bashed in with the way her head throbbed. Maybe it was the crying… she had almost forgotten how much she hated crying, even if nobody saw her shed a tear.

She’d come accept the fact that Sissy couldn’t stand the life of war and constant fighting, that just wasn’t who Sissy was. But what she didn’t accept, and still couldn’t; however, was the way Sissy had just left her life like it was an easy feat. Fran couldn’t… and she didn’t think she would if she could anyway.

Fran left the compound, the wind instantly hitting her tear stained face gently—almost like it felt sorry for her, like it pittied her. She needed to get out, out of this world, out of this life. Sissy was right…. Fran just hated that it took her this long to make it make sense.