Part 6 - Arthur’s POV

When my big sister Maribelle passed away in her bedroom, I didn't understand at first. I thought she was just sleeping... maybe teasing me like she always did. I shook her shoulder, whispered her name, even listened for her heartbeat the way she taught me. But nothing. No pulse. No breath.

I kept calling her name, begging her to wake up, telling her not to leave us. The town doctor had done everything he could to help her fight the illness that struck her, but in the end, it wasn't enough. I ran to our parents, crying so hard I could barely speak, and when they realized what had happened, the whole house fell into mourning.

We held a burial ceremony for her—Mom, Dad, and me—watching as her coffin was lowered into the ground. People came to pay their respects, then drifted away one by one until it was just us again. We walked home in silence, the world suddenly feeling too big and too empty.

Mom, Alice, was a schoolteacher—noble, patient, and so intelligent. Dad, Henry, worked as a carpenter, always building, always fixing, always providing. We were stable, comfortable... but losing Maribelle changed everything. The house didn't feel the same. Neither did we.

A couple of months later, I started coughing. At first it was small, nothing to worry about. But then it grew worse. The doctor said I had come into contact with tuberculosis too. My parents did everything—medicine, rest, treatments—but slowly, things began to slip downhill.

I still went to school on the days Mom taught. Reading, writing, geography—she tried to keep things normal for me. At home, I'd ask her questions about lessons, and she'd answer with that same gentle patience she always had. Dad kept working, trying to hold us together, but the sadness never left his eyes.

Maribelle had been everything—smart, charismatic, thoughtful, loving. After she died, the world felt dimmer. And then, one day, I followed her path. I passed away from the same illness. I was too young. I wanted to help my parents, to grow up, to live longer... but I didn't get the chance.

Back to the present—2022, Louisiana. I've been wandering for a long time, drifting through towns and places I barely recognized anymore. And then one day, I found myself drawn back to our old home. I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. Maybe I was scared. Maybe I wasn't ready.

But when I stepped inside... she was there. Maribelle.

She turned, saw me, and her whole face lit up. She rushed to me, and for the first time in so long, I felt whole again. We talked about everything—what happened after she passed, how different things felt, how I got sick, how I followed her not long after. We don't know where our parents ended up, but I hope they find peace.

I've been following Timothy around since then. He's a rambunctious kid—full of energy, always moving, always talking. He reminds me of myself at his age. I used to run around with friends, playing outside until the sun went down. Socializing... being around people... it's one of the things that makes life feel full.

Timothy doesn't know I'm here yet, but I think he'll like me. I already like him. And Serena—she seems kind, curious, and braver than she realizes.

I haven't been here long, but time will tell. I think we're all going to get along just fine.