Author's Note: Sadly this will be our last chapter until the end of July, as I am going on holiday in Europe and will be too busy absorbing culture/enjoying myself to find access to a computer. I didn't want to leave you on a cliff hanger, so I managed to write this, but I'll have to apologise for the shortness of this chapter. In the meantime, it would be really lovely if you sent me a juicy review. Thanks!

"Gran?" I whispered.

I gingerly touched her wrinkled palm. It was cool, as though she had been dead for hours. He ancient face, cast in a glimpse of sadness, had been eternally frozen. She looked the way I felt, lost, empty, gone.

I had never been spectacular at making decisions, even if it was simply choosing which socks to wear, let alone what to do when someone dies. Nobody I had even known had died, except for the woman sitting only inches from me. I couldn't feel anything, any emotion, apart from shock. It felt wrong to touch her cold hands, to peer into her eyes, which seemed to gaze into nothing. The entire situation was wrong.

I stood up too quickly and almost lost my balance, unable to notice how violently my legs were shaking. I held my hands up to my face, realizing they were trembling until they blurred. The room felt as though it were closing in, or as though the air was being sucked out of it. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I did the only thing I could do and left, just as quietly as I had entered.

My legs managed to make their way outside, where I found myself sitting on the porch steps. The rain seemed to find every surface of my skin, but I wanted to experience it. I felt asleep, as though I could still be lying next to Seth, and what had happened might not have happened. I wanted to be next to him; safe, warm and happy forever.

I thought of him, and wondered about his smile. His smile which didn't seem forced, even though he had experienced so much pain. The death of his father, leaving behind two children and a grieving widow in his wake. And his sister, disappearing just as suddenly as his father. I couldn't grasp how one person could overcome so much pain, and still be open to love, despite losing everything.

Each raindrop cut through my skin and reminded me with such beautiful pain that I was here, and that someone was dead, but I was still alive. It reminded me of Molly, still asleep, who did not need to see what I had. Molly, who was horrible but lovely in her own way. Molly, who could hardly remember who her parents were, and depended entirely on her Gran. The cold, the numbness, it reminded me that I would be the one who Molly would have to depend on.

The thought of Molly, who was still so young, and the thought of Seth, who was strong and reliable, were what made me find my feet. The wetness continued to cling to me even when I was inside, even when I walked past the living room without looking in, and even when I was in the kitchen, fingers punching a number on the telephone.

It was still early. Early enough for a distant ring of a telephone to convey only grim news. I didn't know if he would pick up, but all I knew was that I needed him. On what seemed like the last ring before the dial tone, he answered.

"Hello?" I asked shakily into the silence.

"Ginger?" Seth said, a distinct tone of panic and sleepiness in his voice. "Ginger? Is everything okay?"

"Seth?" I asked in a small voice, feeling relieved just to hear him speak.

"Ginger, what's wrong?" He said, his tone gentler, but the hint of panic was still distinct.

"Something has happened." I told him, unable to get the right words out. "Something is wrong."

"Are you okay?" He asked urgently.

"Physically, I suppose so." I said, trying not to peer around the corner into the living room.

"That's hardly encouraging." He told me, but his tone seemed to relax slightly.

The walls felt as though they were about to close in again, so I shut my eyes. The darkness seemed to encourage me, to consume me. His quiet breath on the other end of the receiver made my lungs feel gigantic, as though his air was connected to mine.

"I came home," I began, trying to sound calm. "And I found my Gran. She's, Seth, she's-"

My voice cracked at the end, and the tears started. Big, fat tears, rolling down my face, dripping off my chin and falling in my mouth. It was the type of crying that you couldn't stop, the type that made you feel as though, when it was over, you were barren and shriveled because there was no water left in your body.

"Ginger?" Seth was almost yelling on the other end of the receiver. He sounded pained, as though he felt the same way I did.

"Give me a second." I managed to croak into the receiver, before burring my head in my hands.

When the tears began to slow I placed the receiver against my ear.

"Dead." I told him. "She's dead."

There was a strange silence on the other end of the phone, as though he weren't there, but I knew he was. It seemed to be the silence you fall into when you're thinking, or concentrating, very hard. I twirled the cord around my finger, and thought of the last time I was on the phone to Seth.

"Ginger," I could hear his soft, gentle tone. "I'm really sorry that this has happened to you."

"Thanks, I suppose." I told him, smiling only a little.

"Do you want me to call the hospital?" He asked, tone still quiet. "You'll need someone to pronounce her… You know."

"Yes please." I said.

"Can I come over?" He asked, urgency in his voice.

"Please." I repeated.

When the dial tone sounded I realized he was gone, so I placed the phone on the hook, staring at it. The silence of the house threatened to consume me, so I did the only thing I could. I placed the kettle on and got out two cups and teabags. Anything but venturing into the living room could make this situation bearable. I left Seth's mug empty and poured myself a cup when the kettle clicked. The tea was too milky and cold to be considered good, but I managed to drink two cups anyway.

When I heard the crunch of tires on the driveway, I was running towards the front door. It had felt like hours since the phone call, but I knew he'd never keep me waiting that long. My bare feet slapped against the muddy ground, and although it had stopped raining, my face was wet. But I could see him, forehead knotted in concern, still in the clothes he had slept in. I could see him, standing with his arms open, so I ran to them, slamming against his torso. He overwhelmed me with his warmth; it cocooned me against his chest, his hands entwined in my hair. I breathed in his scent, my head against his heart, and I cried.

I cried and he held me, even when it stated to sprinkle with rain again.