Prypiat
It felt like the world was going to jut top right then and there when it happened. Out in the fields, farming golden wheat under the blue blue sky, a sharp pain in her side jolted her out of old daydreams and memories of when she had been young and brought her to her knees. As the winds blew over her land, spreading the ionized ashes and invisible pestilence, blisters and bruises appeared over her side. The searing pain cut through her like a sickle used to harvest crops.
In seconds, he was there, for her people were his people and he was her and they were one. Like the deal that had made so many years ago. And her ruined aquamarine eyes could make out the tears of pain in his violet eyes and his cracked lips moving to anguished reassurances. His arms were around her ruined frame and she became so aware of just how big her sweet little brother had become.
She knew that his hair would not fall out as hers would, his organs would not bleed as hers would, his abdomen would never grow cancerous and deformed as hers would. He would not blister and bleed like she would. But his leaders ruled her people, her people spoke his language, her land fed his mouths. And he would feel pain, and he would cry, and his heart would hurt like hers did.
He took one of the braids that she kept coiled around her head, as was her peoples' tradition, and kissed it as tiny brittle strands broke off and fell into the earth.
And later when she asked what had happened to her on that fateful day, though she already knew, she just wanted to hear it from him, he remained oddly silent and refused to answer. Just kept on moving his vases around and clutching his hand to his heart as if it were about to fall out. And her hair was short and her skin was free of blisters and burns and people had stopped asking her about her absence from their lives.
It was almost as if everything was right again, as if the town and the reactor and the disaster had never occurred. The town was empty and the river kept on flowing. All that remained were old photos and graffiti scribblings on the concrete walls of the atom city.
But she would remember the pain and the burning and how his fingers trailed through her hair so long and how his voice had cracked with fear for her life. How he had whispered "I love you" to her to keep her alive for just one second, just one more second, please stay alive.