Evan sat in his cluttered room, the dim glow of his computer screen casting shadows on the walls. He was engrossed in an online game, the kind of world he could lose himself in for hours. The clatter of his keyboard and the occasional frustrated mutter were the only sounds, until a familiar aroma pulled him from his digital realm.

  Through the crack beneath his door, pulling him back to reality. The rich, savory scent of freshly baked bread mingling with melting cheese and sizzling bacon was irresistible. His stomach growled, evoking memories of simpler times. His mother's cooking was one of the few things that could draw him out of his hermit-like existence.

  He heard muffled laughter and conversation through the door, followed by his mother's voice calling, "Ebby, dinner's ready!"

  *That name again*. His jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation curling in his chest, though he couldn't ignore the familiar warmth that came with it.

  "Okay! I'll be there in a minute!" he called out, forcing a lightness into his voice that wasn’t really there.

  "Hurry, or it'll get cold!" Her voice carried that firm, motherly urgency—gentle, yet impossible to ignore.

  His grip on the controller tightened. A sharp exhale. "I said I'll be there in a minute!" The words shot out harsher than intended, but the thought of dragging himself downstairs, of wading into conversation and expectations, made his skin prickle. The walls of his room felt safer—quieter.

  As the laughter faded, footsteps approached his door. *Knock knock.* "Come in," he called, resigned.

  "Hey, honey, I brought you a plate," she said, stepping inside with a small dish of food.

  "Thanks, Mom," he replied.

  "Don't forget to say hi to your brother before he leaves; it's been ages since you've seen each other," she reminded him, her tone gentle yet firm.

  "Yeah, okay," he muttered, eyes already drifting back to the screen.

  "Enjoy your meal," she said softly as she turned to leave.

  "Please close the door behind you," he replied.

  Sinking into his chair, he let out a contented sigh, setting his controller aside. With a few quick clicks, the game paused, replaced by the familiar red-and-white interface of YouTube. His eyes flicked over the thumbnails until one caught his attention—something promising enough to keep him entertained while he ate.

  The first bite of mashed potatoes stopped him mid-chew. Damn. She really outdid herself this time. The creamy texture, the subtle pop of seasoning, the bits of potato skin giving it just the right bite—perfect. He scooped up another forkful, letting the buttery warmth linger on his tongue before moving on to the bread. A satisfying crunch gave way to a pillowy softness, the rich garlic butter melting into every crevice. He let out a small, appreciative hum.

  By the time the video was halfway through, his plate was clean. He blinked at it, surprised by how full he felt. A chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Well, there's always room for dessert." Pushing back his chair, he made his way to the door.

  At the top of the stairs, he hesitated. The familiar warmth of home wrapped around him like a well-worn blanket. Framed snapshots lined the walls—vacations, birthdays, fleeting moments frozen in time. One, more faded than the rest, held his gaze a second longer. Their father, smiling softly, his presence still lingering despite the years.

  From below, the low murmur of voices floated up, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter. The distant clatter of dishes, the hum of normalcy. He preferred his solitude, but even he couldn’t deny the quiet comfort in these sounds. They tethered him, an invisible thread reminding him that, despite his distance, he was still part of something.

  As Evan rounded the corner toward the kitchen, the glow of the television flickered against the walls. His steps slowed. Curled up on the couch, Essiya sat wide-eyed, engrossed in whatever played on the screen.

  Before Evan could slip past unnoticed, the boy’s head snapped up.

  “Tío Evan! Hi!” Essiya bolted from the couch, feet thudding against the floor as he crashed into him with a tight hug.

  "Hey, little man!" Evan grinned as he ruffled Essiya’s hair, the boy’s laughter bubbling up in response. The hug lingered a second longer than expected, and instead of pulling away first, Evan let himself sink into it. His usual instinct to retreat, to keep interactions short, wavered. Just for a moment, the walls he kept up didn’t feel so necessary.

  How’s it going?” Evan asked

  “Good! I haven’t seen you in forever!” Essiya pulled back, squinting up at him. His little nose scrunched in concentration. “You look different.” A beat passed before his eyes widened with realization. “You’re not as squishy anymore!”

  Evan snorted, barely holding back a laugh. “Yeah, it’s been a while. I’ve been eating better.”

  “Yay! Maybe now you can get a girlfriend!”

  Evan’s smile twitched. “You little shi—”

  "ESSIYA! WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT TALKING ABOUT HOW PEOPLE LOOK?!" Donovan's voice boomed as he rounded the corner, playful yet protective.

  Evan noticed a slight flush to his cheeks betraying he had been drinking. *must've had wine with dinner*

  With a grip on the back of his son's neck, Donovan chuckled. "What's up, Evan? Though he could've said it nicer, He's right, you know. You've slimmed down," Donovan said, grinning as he joined them."

  Evan shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just trying to be healthier, I guess,” he muttered, avoiding both of their gazes.

  "Hey, whatever you're doing, it's working," Donovan said, clapping him on the shoulder. "It's good to see you, man. Really."

  "Yea!" Essiya chimed in with a mischievous grin. "Even your man boobs have shrunk!"

  "ESSIYA, THAT'S ENOUGH!" Donovan warned, tightening his grip on his son's neck.

  Evan chuckled awkwardly, pulling the front of his shirt, feeling a bit exposed. "It's all good, Donovan," he mumbled, trying to brush off the comment. "Actually, I've been talking to someone."

  Donovan's eyebrows shot up, his interest piqued. "Oh really? What's her name? How did you meet?"

  Evan hesitated, once again shifting his weight from one foot to the other, but when he thought of Kyra, a flicker of confidence sparked in his eyes. "Her name is Kyra. We met on a dating app."

  Donovan's expression turned cautious. "Be careful with those apps. You never know who you're talking to. Remember what happened last time? You were catfished."

  "Catfished?" Evan repeated, as if the term was still foreign to him.

  "Yeah, that girl-Sabrina or Sandra? Something like that."

  "You mean Savanna?"

  "Yeah! That dirty bitch."

  Evan ran a hand through his hair, the past flickering like a distant echo. "She didn't catfish me. We actually knew each other from middle school. Reconnected on Facebook, met up once, and then she robbed me."

  A flash of recognition crossed his friend's face. "Oh, right! She took your weed and cash while you were showering after that Disney World trip. Just goes to show, trust isn’t always mutual. Be cautious about who you let in."

  Evan let out a slow breath, the lessons of yesterday pressing down on him like a familiar weight. "Yeah, I get it. I've learned to read people better now." His voice steadied, carrying a quiet conviction. "But Kyra's different. She's a good person. We both have our pasts, but we've grown from them."

  Donovan studied him for a moment, then nodded, stepping in for a hug. "I trust your judgment, little bro."

  Evan returned the hug, feeling a rare sense of warmth and connection.

  Evan glanced toward the kitchen, feeling the familiar pull of his solitary retreat. "I think I'm going to grab some dessert and head back upstairs," he mumbled, already anticipating the comfort of his room.

  But Donovan, sensing the usual retreat, interjected. "Hey, why don't you bring back a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses instead? Let's sit and talk for a bit."

  Essiya, with a cheeky grin, chimed in, "Make it three!"

  Donovan chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice try, Essiya, but you're sticking to juice for a few more years."

  Evan hesitated, his instinct to withdraw and battle with his brother's unexpected invitation. Reluctantly, he nodded and made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle and two glasses. As he returned, he noticed Essiya's playful pout, which made everyone smile.

  At first, Evan felt awkward, unsure of what to say as he poured the wine. He fumbled with the bottle, spilling a little on the table. Donovan laughed it off, and they both took a sip. Slowly, the wine began to ease the tension in Evan's shoulders, the warmth spreading through him.

  As the evening wore on, the wine worked its magic, loosening Evan's usual guarded demeanor. The conversation flowed easily, the years of distance melting away, if only for a moment. They talked about trivial things, the kind of banter that felt natural and reassuring. Donovan's usual guarded demeanor was softened by the wine, allowing a rare glimpse into the brother he used to know.

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  "Do you have any games on your phone tìo evan?" Essiya asks

  "No time for that, Essiya. We're about to leave," Donovan replied, scooping him up. "It was good seeing you, man. Stay in touch-I know we've grown apart over the years..."

  "I WANT TO SEE YOUR GIRLFRIEND!" Essiya suddenly interrupted, eyes wide with excitement.

  Evan, feeling the warmth and confidence from the wine, chuckled as he scrolled through his phone without hesitation, searching for a good picture. Donovan quietly scolded Essiya for interrupting, but Evan was unfazed, buoyed by the newfound ease that the wine provided.

  Once he found a decent photo, he turned the screen toward them, a proud smile on his face. "Here she is," he said, his voice steady and sure, the wine helping him to share a part of his life he usually kept private.

  "Wow, she's gorgeous, man. Good job, little bro," Donovan said, beaming.

  "Daaaaamn, Tío Evan! You got you a baddie for real! She got a little sister?" Essiya asked with a sly grin.

  "BOY, WATCH YOUR DAMN MOUTH!" Donovan exclaimed. "Go to the car and wait for me before I give you a wedgie!"

  Essiya took off running, screaming, "Not another wedgie!!!"

  They both laughed.

  "Man, kids. They're something else," Evan said, shaking his head.

  "Yeah, tell me about it," Donovan replied, smirking. "We're careful-no cursing around him, we watch what he watches, no phone yet. But somehow, he's out here saying stuff like, 'Damn, bruh,' 'No cap,' and 'skibity toilet,' whatever that means. It has to be the kids at school."

  Evan nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe he picks up some of that from his friends, but he doesn't strike me as a follower. He's got his own mind, his own direction. Maybe he'll wander into a few backrooms for the fun of it, but he'll always find his way. You and Morgan have done an incredible job with him."

  Donovan's expression softened. "Thanks, man. That means a lot." He hesitated, then sighed. "Hey man, I know we've grown apart. A lot of that was on me-joining that gang when you were younger. But it was never personal. I kept you distant to protect you and Mom. That life wasn't something I wanted you anywhere near. But I want you to know I love you, man. No matter what, I'm always here for you."

  Evan was caught off guard by Donovan's openness. It was unexpected, even with the wine loosening their tongues. The depth of the conversation stirred something in him, and despite being tipsy, his hermit personality threatened to return. But the wine gave him just enough courage to stay present and engaged.

  Memories flooded his mind-long afternoons spent playing video games together as kids, laughing and fiercely competing over every level. Donovan always had a knack for strategy, effortlessly beating him time and again, taunting him with playful jabs about being the "worst player ever." Evan remembered the sting of those losses, the frustration that would bring tears to his eyes, especially when he knew he could never seem to win.

  And then there were their wrestling matches, where Donovan would easily pin him down, slipping him into an ankle lock and making him tap out almost every time. Evan could still hear Donovan's laughter, teasing him as he struggled to break free. "You'll never beat me, little bro!"

  But everything changed when Donovan got involved with that gang. Instead of sharing laughs and bonding over games, the distance grew. Donovan became elusive, hanging out with new friends and disappearing for hours without explanation. Evan felt abandoned and confused, unsure why his brother had pulled away. Which led to him becoming a hermit. During that time, their mother drew even closer to Evan, babying him in Donovan's absence. It was a comfort that eventually led to Evan still living with her, the bond growing out of necessity and protection.

  "I... It's all good, man. No hard feelings," Evan finally replied, a hint of regret in his voice. The memories tugged at him, and he felt the sting of tears again. "I appreciate that. I know we've grown apart, but we're still brothers. Always will be. Nothing will change that. I love you, man."

  Evan pulled Donovan into a hug-not just for the sentiment, but to hide the tears burning in his eyes.

  "I love you too, bro," Donovan replied, emotion thick in his voice.

  "Oh, my boys. I dreamed of this day..."

  They turned to see their mother standing in the doorway, hands clasped over her mouth, eyes glistening with tears.

  "Moooom!" Evan groaned, rolling his eyes with a smirk as their mother rushed into the room, hands clasped over her mouth.

  "Family hug!" she exclaimed, wrapping them both tightly.

  For a fleeting moment, everything felt perfect. But then-

  CRASH!

  The sharp sound of glass shattering jolted them out of their blissful moment.

  "What was that?" Evan murmured, heart racing.

  Another crash. Then another. Objects clattered to the floor, and the framed photos on the walls trembled.

  He blinked in disbelief. "Are they... shaking?" he murmured, rubbing his eyes as if to clear his drunken vision.

  Their mother started toward the kitchen, but the ground beneath them jolted violently, making her stumble and fall.

  "Mom!" Both brothers yelled, lunging toward her.

  The tremors intensified, turning into a full-blown quake. Evan's pulse quickened. "Are we having an earthquake? In Florida?!"

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Donovan sprint toward the front door.

  Essiya.

  "Come on, Mom! We need to get to the bathroom!" Evan shouted, urgency spiking his voice as he helped her up. The house groaned ominously around them, the walls vibrating with the force of the tremor.

  Evan pulled both himself and his mother into the bathroom, knowing it was one of the safest spots in the house with fewer things to fall on them. The shaking felt endless, each violent jolt more terrifying than the last. They huddled together, trying to steady themselves against the quivering walls.

  The air was thick with fear, the sound of rattling furniture and shattering glass echoing through the house. Evan's heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel his mother's trembling hand clutching his arm tightly.

  "Dear God, please keep us safe," his mother began to pray, her voice wavering with each aftershock. "Where's Donovan? Is he safe?"

  Evan's mind raced, his concern for his brother cutting through his own fear. "He went for Essiya"

  Just as suddenly as it began, the tremors faded into stillness, leaving behind an eerie silence.

  Evan exhaled shakily, his ears ringing. He and his mother slowly pulled themselves up, still reeling from what just happened.

  He stumbled into the hallway, gripping the frame for support. Then, cautiously, he stepped into the kitchen.

  His stomach dropped.

  The kitchen was a war zone. Broken dishes, shattered glass, scattered food-it was everywhere.

  "Evan, I'm going to check on your brother," she said, her voice trembling.

  "Okay" Evan murmured, as he started picking up plates, checking for salvageable pieces.

  Then he heard it.

  A scream.

  Not just any scream. A gut-wrenching cry that froze his blood in his veins.

  "Oh my God!" His mother yelled.

  Terror gripped his chest. He bolted toward the sound, nearly slipping on the debris-strewn floor. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he rounded the corner-

  And then-

  His breath caught in his throat.

  His mother was on her knees, sobbing, trembling hands clutching her chest.

  "Oh, Lord, no. Please, God, my baby, my Bubby-please help him."

  Evan followed her gaze.

  Donovan lay face-down in a growing pool of blood, cradling Essiya, motionless, a smaller puddle of crimson pooling beneath his head.

  Evan stumbled back, weak-legged.

  "W-what the hell..."

  His heel caught on a fallen brick, and he nearly toppled over. Stones and debris from the house littered the ground.

  "HELP THEM, EVAN!" his mother screamed, voice raw with agony.

  Snapping out of his shock and pure adrenaline, he turned and sprinted back inside. "I'm calling 911!"

  He raced up the stairs, but resistance met him as he tried to shove his bedroom door open.

  Something must've fallen, blocking the entrance.

  Gritting his teeth, he threw his weight against the door. It barely budged. His mother's sobs echoed through the house, fueling his desperation. He slammed his shoulder against it again. And again. The wood groaned, splinters-then, finally, cracked.

  A sharp pain shot through his shoulder, but adrenaline dulled it.

  One more.

  With a final, forceful blow, the door crashed off its hinges, sending him tumbling into the chaos of his wrecked room.

  Heart hammering, he frantically searched through the debris. Books, blankets, a fallen TV-where the hell is his phone?

  "FUCK! WHERE IS IT?!" he yelled.

  Then, finally-

  Under the broken TV screen. There!

  Snatching it up, he fumbled to turn it on. The screen was cracked but still functioned. Shaking hands struggled to unlock it. After three failed attempts, he finally got through.

  The line rang.

  Then-

  "Due to a high volume of calls, your wait time may be longer than usual. Please remain on the line-"

  "FOR FUCK'S SAKE?!" he roared.

  He bolted back downstairs, nearly missing a step but managing to catch himself.

  "I'm on the phone with them, but no one's answering!" he told his mother, breathless.

  She didn't respond-just rocked back and forth, crying, hands pressed to Donovan's back.

  Minutes felt like hours.

  Finally-

  "Due to a high number of calls, it may take longer than usual for your call to be answered. Please wait patiently for an operator."

  "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Evan yelled, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He paced back and forth, glancing at his mother, still sobbing over Donovan and Essiya. The sound of her cries made his stomach churn.

  After what felt like an eternity, a voice finally came through the receiver.

  "911, what is your emergency?"

  Evan took a deep breath, this intense situation sobering him up, he still struggled to steady his voice. "We-there was something-it felt like an earthquake-my brother, he's on the ground outside-he's bleeding a lot, and my nephew-he's unconscious. I need an ambulance now!"

  The operator's response made his blood run cold.

  "Due to widespread emergencies, it may take up to forty minutes for an ambulance to reach you."

  "Are you SHITTING me?!"

  His mother looked up, eyes wide. "What did they say?"

  "Forty minutes!"

  "We can't wait that long!" she shrieked.

  Evan clenched his jaw. "We'll have to take them ourselves."

  The operator quickly provided instructions. "In that case, Listen carefully. I need you to check their pulse. Place two fingers on the side of the adult male's neck and the child's wrist."

  "Mom, check their pulse!" Evan instructed, voice trembling.

  His mother hesitated before pressing her fingers against Donovan's neck, then Essiya's wrist. Her face scrunched in concentration before she nodded through her tears. "I feel it! It's faint, but it's there!"

  "Alright," the operator replied. "Can you tell me where the injuries are?"

  Evan swallowed hard, crouching closer to examine his brother. He winced at the sight of blood but forced himself to focus. "It's the back of his head... and the back of his neck. There's a big gash. A lot of blood." He hesitated, then looked at his nephew. "The kid-I think the top of his head, but I can't tell for sure."

  There was a brief pause before the operator spoke again.

  "Alright, listen carefully. Because there's trauma to the head and neck, you have to be extremely careful when moving the adult male. It could be a spinal injury. Normally, we would tell you not to move him, but if you're going to transport him yourself, you'll need to stabilize his neck as much as possible."

  Evan's stomach dropped. "Okay... how do I do that?"

  "When you roll him over, make sure his head, neck, and spine move together as one unit. Do not twist his neck in any way. You and your mother need to do this slowly and carefully. Once he's on his back, lightly wrap a clean cloth or gauze around the wound to slow the bleeding, but do not apply direct pressure to his neck."

  Evan nodded, even though the operator couldn't see him. "Okay, got it."

  "For the child," the operator continued, "if you don't suspect a skull fracture, you can apply firm pressure to his wound to slow the bleeding. But be careful-if you notice any soft spots or deformities on his skull, do not apply pressure there."

  "O-Okay," Evan stammered, running a hand over his face. He looked at his mother. "We have to turn him over carefully. Keep his head straight with his body."

  They moved cautiously, his mother supporting Donovan's head as they lifted him. They placed him in the truck bed, laying him flat with the towel beneath his head.

  Then Evan scooped up Essiya, placing him beside his father.

  Evan put his phone back up to his ear "

  "Okay, they are loaded up."

  "Would you like me to stay on the line?"

  "No, I think we got it. Thank you."

  "Alright. Drive safe, and best of luck to your family." *click*

  As Evan jumped into the driver's seat and backed out of the driveway and down the road, he glanced in the rearview mirror-just in time to see an ambulance pulling up to the house.

  "Are you kidding me?" he shouted.

  "What?" his mother asked, voice still thick with tears.

  Evan clenched his jaw, debating for a split second whether to stop-but no. Moving them again wasn't worth the risk. They were already in the truck. The hospital wasn't far.

  "Nothing. Just low on gas," he lied, not wanting to add to his mother's distress.

  As he carefully maneuvered through the debris-covered streets, his mind reeled. Less than an hour ago, they had been sharing heartfelt moments-one of the best times in years. And now, in an instant, everything had changed.

  He gripped the wheel tighter, heart pounding as the hospital came into view.

  "Please, God, let them be okay," he whispered, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him.!