The sunset really was quite beautiful, even for winter. And to think that yesterday it had been snowing recklessly, pounding against the bare trees. Now the orange rays of the night time sun glittered against the ice crystals, letting the ground glitter and shine.
It was a beautiful day. She couldn't ask for anything more.
Of course, she could ask for more but she simply didn't think about it. She wouldn't allow her wants and fears to interfere with the serenity of tonight.
It was silent save for her breathing. It was steady and constant. Her heartbeat was close to her ear, and it lulled her into a strange trance.
Tonight was beautiful. She couldn't deny it. Especially when her fingers were slowly getting colder and her nose was turning red.
She didn't see much birds around anymore, but when she looked over the field at the empty trees she saw an eagle's nest. Beautiful really.
Tonight was something to cherish.
She'd never be able to live in the cold, to be like that bird. How they did was beyond her. She was bundled in a giant winter coat, scarf around her face and big black gloves. She sure didn't look attractive. Eagles made winter look good.
Eagles made the night look almost... mysterious.
Winter didn't allow the sunset to linger long enough. Just as quickly as the sun moved behind the horizon, the light of dusk settled on the land. Outlines grew blurry and shadows grew.
The night was something to appreciate.
And somehow, while the moon glowed behind her and cast an eerie glow on the earth, the white snow and that brown trees, she felt an odd chill curl through her, touching her bones.
The night wasn't cold. It was welcoming.
Apparently when the darkness comes, so the wall come crashing down too. The darkness only brought back memories she'd rather forget. Memories of waking up with no father. Waking up shaking in a dark, blank closet. Creepy crawling feelings inside her stomach, stemming from the thought of shadows.
The night was suppose to wrap her in a blanket, keeping her safe from the world.
And she hugged her arms just a little bit tighter, asking her coat for a little bit more comfort than she was feeling. She missed her father. She missed the security and the peace she'd feel with him. She missed him balancing her on his knee and telling her stories of fairytales. She missed the unity of family and love.
The night wasn't supposed to make her remember. It was supposed to make her forget.
Something moved behind her, and she looked over her shoulder. She had to move her big woollen scarf to see who was coming up behind her. "It's you." She only whispered.
"Only me." He came to stand beside her, wrapped in his own little bundle of warmth. The winter was colder today than usual. The night brought a different chill.
The night brought two people closer, even though it also tore them apart.
Her brother, her twin brother, had seen it all. He saw the blood, heard the dripping of blood, smelt the stench. He told her a few years after that he could even taste the copper in the air.
It was a massacre.
The night wasn't ever supposed to do this to her, bring her to her knees and make her succumb to memories.
But here she was, still thinking about how it still affected her, more than ten years after. Her brother was withdrawn, he dug deep into himself to keep himself protect. Built an even thicker wall in order to never be hurt again. He didn't want to relive that night.
"You thinking about it?" His voice was hoarse. It was difficult for him to talk about it. It was difficult for him to step inside a washroom sometimes, hard for him to step inside the shower stall. He had come to rely on her, no matter how within himself he drew.
"What do you think?"
"I think about it every day. And no matter what, it never changes. They just get bigger, badder... more... just much worse." He took a breath. A breath that seemed to linger in the air as her heart continued to pump warm blood through her body, continued to assure that she was still alive inside and not dead like she felt.
"But you move on." Those words. He'd never said them before. She looked at him, took in the way his onyx eyes cried without actually crying. He was a lot like their father. He would always be a lot like their father. Quiet, withdrawn and fighting inner demons without actually defeating them.
Maybe the night would take them away one day.
And as he walked and she turned to follow him, noticing the hair to reflect in his silver hair. He fought for his father and he fought for her. He made her forget. He made her feel protected even if she didn't see him often. She knew that he'd survive because he knew he'd never give up on life.
Perhaps one day he'd forget, but she still knew he wrestled with it every day.
But she still knew that he remembered seeing his father with blood dripping down his wrist.
And she felt helpless to fix it.
And she could only rely on the cold winter moon glistening on the beautiful, freshly fallen snow to help them heal, to hope that the sun rise will one day will wash it all away.