Emma's brown eyes opened quickly, and she shot up in bed. Excitement and adrenaline coursed through her veins and she threw off her blankets, running over to her window and throwing the curtains back. Covering the ground was a thick blanket of snow, and she could see the light glinting off the frozen lake about a mile away. She smiled; Jack could take her skating!
She made her way over to her dresser and pulled out her clothes for the day, a warm long-sleeved shirt, her winter coat, and thick brown leggings. She also pulled on some socks and slid her feet into her fur boots before gabbing her ice skates on her way out the door. She shut it quietly behind her, as not to disturb anyone yet.
Jack's bedroom was at the other end of the hall, and when Emma burst in, she wasn't surprised to find her seventeen-year-old brother sill sound asleep. The boy had been chopping wood all day yesterday, and she felt a sting of guilt when she remembered how tired he had looked, and she still had begged for him to entertain her and her friends. He was curled tightly under the covers, with his face planted halfway in his pillow. His brown hair fell into what little bit of his eyes Emma could see, and it was a mess from tossing and turning in his sleep.
Emma crept over to his bed, quickly and quietly, in hopes to surprise him. She bit her lip to keep from laughing before she leaped onto his feet. "Jack!" she cried. Her brother shot up like a startled squirrel, pupils blown wide. Emma could barely see the brown ring in his eyes.
She was quickly kicked onto the floor from all her brother's thrashing, but she was laughing with glee. It wasn't often she pulled one over on him, as Jack prided himself to be somewhat of a master at pranks, tricks, and games. Jack stared at her, blinking rapidly with one hand in his hair and the other on his chest. Emma had clearly frightened him.
"Good grief, Emma!" Jack said. "What?"
Emma stopped laughing and looked at him, blinking. Did he not remember? "You promised to take me ice-skating!" she told him, staring at him.
He stared back at her for the longest time before Jack blinked and his hands fell into his lap. "Oh, yeah, I guess I did, didn't I?" Jack didn't wait for an answer. "Alright then. Go on, out of my room so I can get dressed."
Emma nodded and dashed out, slamming the door behind her, and Jack winced. She really was too enthusiastic in the mornings. Jack blinked and yawned, his eyelids drooping of their own accord. He wrenched himself awake, getting out of his bed before he lied back down and fell asleep again.
Then he just shook his head and chuckled as he got out his clothes. When he was dressed, he wore a light brown shirt, matching the slightly darker pants that had laces that strung up to his mid-calf. He didn't bother pulling on his shoes, and just pulled his skates from the underneath of his bed and ran to meet up with Emma, who was just leaving the house with a piece of a orange and bread.
"Be good, will you, and come back safely!" their mother called, and Jack turned to look back at her as he nodded. He told her they would.
Emma ran slightly ahead on the trail through the trees the whole time, and Jack swore he had never seen her so excited about anything. Then again, they didn't get to go skating that often, as Jack was often plagued with work around the village and didn't have time. But his father said that he'd done more than his share yesterday and gave him the day off. They reached the edge of the lake and Jack checked the ice but putting his foot on the edge. It didn't crack, so he deemed it safe enough.
Jack didn't bother to pull on his skates, having never been comfortable in shoes anyway. He could skate without them. Emma changed out her shoes and Jack slid out to the middle of the lake, the frosty ice stinging his aching feet. He closed his eyes for a moment in bliss, and heard Emma make her way to the center of the lake, too, to his right.
Emma and Jack skated around for a while, joking and laughing and playing a few games. The sun drifted high overhead, past noontime, and it was when it reached sometime around four thirty when they had to stop when Emma froze in the center of the lake, a crack under her feet. More cracks began to form as she moved. "Jack, I'm scared," she said, her voice shaking.
Jack glanced back at her and froze. He hadn't heard the ice breaking. His sharp eyes scanned the ice, and, with dread pooling in his stomach, he noticed how thin they had worn it. They should have been off the ice about an hour ago. He quietly cursed himself for not noticing. It was his job, as the older brother, to prevent the current situation.
He nodded, worriedly scanning the ice for anything that could help. There! A long stick, neatly carved, with a hook at the end. If only he was close enough to it. Emma was closer, but she couldn't move without falling. "Okay," he said quickly, already formulating a plan in the back of his mind. "It's going to be okay, just don't look down."
"Jack, I'm scared!" Emma repeated, panic becoming clear in the waver in her voice and the octave it had gone up.
The ice began to crack a little bit more under her feet when she shifted.
"I know, I know," Jack soothed, trying to figure out how to get to the stick. He took a step forward and, to his horror; the ice began to break under his feet. "You're going to be all right. You're not going to fall in." An idea hit him. He could get closer to the stick without Emma noticing his panic. He was certain that if he stayed still much longer, she would. "We're going to have a little fun, instead!"
"No we're not!" Emma cried, eyes wide in fear.
"Would I trick you?" Jack asked, already knowing the answer to that.
Emma nodded, holding out her arms to regain her balance. "Yes, you always play tricks!"
Jack shook his head, cursing his childish behavior. "Yeah, well, not this time. I promise, I promise. It's going to be okay. We're going to be fine. You have to believe in me."
Emma looked at him, her brown eyes blown wide with fear and hope.
"You wanna play a game?" Jack asked, trying to inflict positive energy into his voice, almost daring it to shake. "We're going to play hopscotch, like we play everyday." Emma began to smile when he grinned at her. He was glad he could still make her grin, when he felt like crying.
"Uh, okay, one," he said, and took a step forward. The ice cracked, and Jack's heart picked up in fear. Nevertheless, he looked up at Emma and feigned losing his balance, throwing one leg into the air. He tried to grab the stick, but didn't quite make it. Dammit. "Whoa!" Emma laughed. "Two!" Another step, almost to that damned stick... "Three!" Jack knelt down and brushed his fingers over to smooth wood, looking encouragingly up at his little sister.
He picked up the wood, and held one hand out to her, then gripped the stick and pushed the end with the hook towards her. "Now it's your turn," he told her. She took a step forward, clearly hoping to copy him. "One," Jack counted. The ice cracked more under her feet, and the hope in Emma's eyes all but vanished. She gasped, and he counted again, at two, and held out the stick again, a little farther... She was almost hyperventilating.
When she glanced down at the breaks in the ice, her wrapped the hook around her tiny waist. "Three!" he cried, and pulled Emma off her feet, flinging her to the edge of the pond. At the same time, he slid backwards, onto thinner ice.
He put a pleased smile on his face and Emma looked up, grinning. The ice let out a loud groan, and Emma's joyful smile disappeared into a look of horror and fear. "Jack!" she half-sobbed. He gave a small laugh and stood up partly, to give himself less pain when he went under. He knew he would. The ice cracked one last time, and broke under his feet. He went under, feet first, closing his eyes before his head was submerged. He made sure the grip on the stick was strong, to assist in pulling himself up again.
"Jack!" Emma cried, horrified.
The first thing Jack registered was the cold. It was bloody freezing. The second thing he realized was that, while he had meant to be able to go right back up through the hole, he found that he couldn't find the damn thing! He must've not been standing quite right before he fell, forcing him away from the hole in his fall. Jack's heartbeat picked up again, and he tried to move upwards, but the weight of his winter clothes pulled him down. He quickly became light-headed from the loss of air.
Which way was up?
Jack blinked, dizzy. Was that a light? He wondered. He would've swum to it if he hadn't been so tired. Who knew falling into freezing cold water was so exhausting? It didn't help that he'd been tired all day, and sleep seemed like such a good idea. He let his eyelids slip closed, even though some part of him knew it was a mistake. He stopped struggling for air. What was the point, anyway, if breathing was so tiring? He felt his head go limp, and knew no more.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Emma let out a loud cry when Jack disappeared. Tears pooled in her eyes and ran down her face while she lunged herself forward, towards the hole in the ice. She leaned over the edge, and saw him. He was going downward, his eyes slipping closed. "No, Jack!" she sobbed. "No, no, no!"
He was still holding onto that damn stick, she noticed vaguely, even when his head fell back. He held onto it in death. Why, she wondered. Her vision blurred.
Death.
Emma couldn't think on it. She was completely numb. She sat there, for what seemed like forever. Eventually the sun went down, and she heard her parent's voices calling their names, frantic.
"Emma! Jack!" they called. She heard her mother's voice a bit more than her father's.
Emma let out a soft sob, putting one fisted hand near her mouth. "Here, Mother, Father!" she called, not looking up. She couldn't. She had to see her brother.
She heard footsteps approaching, but didn't really register them. "Emma!" her mother cried, putting her arms around the small girl. "Are you okay, sweetie? Where's Jack? Is he all right?"
Emma let out a sob. "Jack d-d-drowned. He s-saved m-me. He p-p-p-pulled me out of the way. Th-th-threw me onto the b-b-bank. But the ice c-c-couldn't hold him. He d-drowned, Mother. He's g-g-g-gone." Emma let out another sob, leaning closer to the edge of the pond, looking at her brother's dead body. She couldn't bear to tear her eyes away. She had to see him. One last time.
Her mother's arms tightened around her, and Emma felt fresh, hot tears fall into her hair. "What?" her mother asked, softly. Emma let out a loud cry of grief and didn't bother to answer. She knew that her mother had heard her the first time, and she really didn't want to repeat herself. It was too difficult, to speak of her brother's death. Why did he have to die? Why couldn't it have been her, instead? She had to idea to go skate, and it was her idea to stay longer than normal. She had noticed the thinning ice, but hadn't said anything. Why didn't she say something? Jack was dead because of her. It was all her fault. She cried harder, and Emma felt her mother hold her tighter in her grief.
Her father stood in shock on the bay while the scene played out before him, oblivious to his daughter's guilt and the grief of both of them. He wasn't watching Emma, or his wife. No, all saw were Jack's ice skates, near the edge of the pond where a large imprint in the snow was. That had to have been where Emma had landed when Jack threw her. Numb, he walked over the skates and picked them up, not bothering to blink back tears. He let them fall.
He wondered why it had to be his son who died.
They left not long after, back to their house. Both girls sobbed the whole way back, while Father stored away his tears for a few minutes to lead them back to the town. Most of the people were there when they came back, and both girls ignored them, stumbling into their tiny home. Father paused, and spoke with a tight throat, "Jack's dead. He drowned under the lake, pulling Emma away from thin ice."
The town let out a gasp, and most bowed their heads. A few shed tears, and they all left, back to their houses, not long after.
Emma didn't stay up for the cold dinner that sat on the table, and Mother just threw it all away, too heartbroken to eat. She slid into Jack's normal spot at the table and buried her face in her hands as she sobbed. Father shut the door behind him when he came into the house, and pulled his wife close, allowing her to soak his shirt and he buried his face into her hair.
Meanwhile, Emma made her way upstairs, passing her bedroom without a second glance. She instead went into Jack's old room, and crawled into his bed. It was barely six hours ago that he was lying here, asleep, and she jumped on his legs in joy and excitement, with no idea that it was the last time she ever would do so. She pulled the covers up over her head and went to sleep, thick, hot tears falling from her closed eyes. She saw the scene over again in her nightmare, as she would for the rest of her life.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Under the water, Jack's formally brown hair bled into a frosty white. It lengthened a bit more, and fluffed up. The stick strengthened in his grip, and grew to match his height. He would never grow again, after all. His clothes patched up as if they were never were torn, and began to shift to fit him perfectly, rather than them being slightly baggy. On the edges of the fabric, ice designs began to form. They were beautiful designs, embroidery made entirely of permanent ice. Jack's body began to float up, and a foot under the surface, brown eyes became a frosty blue, and snapped open.