I bit my lip. It seemed that whatever was looming on the horizon wasn't going to stay hidden much longer. A reddish hue colored the skyline, surrounded by thin strips of gold. The old beach chair I sat in was clearly on the verge of collapsing. For some reason though, I just couldn't bring myself to get rid of it.

Maybe I was worried my perfect view of the sunrise wouldn't be the same without the chair. Or perhaps it was the sentimental attachment that kept me from replacing it. It had been a long year.

Suppressing the urge to cry, I recalled the old saying, "Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning." It held a sort of comfort and was a phrase I often recollected when I was felt lonely. This was one of those times.

I gripped the splintered wood harder. Cursing, I unclenched my hands. Tiny pieces of wood had embedded themselves in my skin. It stung a little bit more than I had anticipated. Well, I suppose that's what I got for keeping the damn chair. The chair was on a long list of things I was having trouble letting go of.

"Harry?" A soft voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"You're up early." Responding quickly, I turned around to meet my sister's concerned eyes. I gave her a small smile.

"So, you finally finished it." Ivy looked at me expectantly.

"Yeah."

"Aren't you excited? You've worked so hard on it."

"Yeah." I must not have been convincing enough because she eyed me warily. For a moment, we both gazed out over the lake. I had finally finished my novel.

"I miss her too, you know." Her statement surprised me. Usually, Ivy was much more subtle.

"What?"

"I wish you'd talk about it. I wish you'd tell me. We can't keep pretending nothing ever happened."

"And why not?" I asked angrily.

"I feel like I'm missing something. You can't keep pretending she didn't die." Ivy's tone was growing louder and more fierce.

"Look, I..."

"Why won't you let me help you?! Your laugh is different. Did you know that? I miss your real laugh. It's been almost a year now and I thought it would be back by now. But it's not." Her voice was shrill and fresh tears began to roll down her face. They left shiny streaks on her cheeks that glistened in the early morning light.

"I can't. I don't know what you want me to tell you." I knew exactly what she wanted. I couldn't reassure her though.

"I want to know what happened a year ago. I want you to let me in. Please, Harry." I could hear every ounce of desperation seeping into her plea. My head began to pound viciously. I wasn't sure I could, even if I wanted to.

"Ivy, please. I'm sorry. You know I love you, but I can't give you what you're asking."

"Why not? I want the real you back. I miss you so much it hurts. You look so empty all the time." Ivy was crying hard now. In my twenty-two years of existence, I had never seen Ivy so sad. I knew that if I released everything I kept bottled up, I would be forced to face all the hurt I'd so carefully avoided.

I had become a master at avoiding things. It had led me to fall into a new routine. It was a sort rhythmic flow that I followed. My steady coexistence with the routine helped me to push away all the bad things.

No one but me could see the invisible scars left on my skin. The once gaping wounds had been stifled over time until their cries of indignation could no longer be heard.

Every place I went was tainted with memories. The kind that you re-run in your head all day. They were a bittersweet melody I had been playing on repeat. It was a strange sensation to experience. I wanted to hold on to the memories for as long as possible, but at the same time, I never wanted to relive them again.

For so long I had felt as if I was suffocating on the inside. With her death she stole my oxygen, leaving me sprawled on the ground, trying to teach my lungs how to work again.

Slowly, I could feel my resolve lessen as if it were melting in the sun. Wincing, I began pulling the splinters out of my hand.

"Why don't we go get coffee? I'll start at the beginning."