I shuffle along, my stiff joints trying their hardest to keep me away from the window. Just like how Jim tried everything to keep me away from him all those years ago. I fight through it all and reach the window with a direct view of the castle on the hill.
Instantly, I am that seventeen year old girl again. The pain in my joints is gone, and I can almost feel my long hair tumbling down my shoulders. I have a strong desire to run outside and dance like a ballerina on my white stage. I can still see his conflicted and handsome face, burned into my memory: his pale, scarred face; his sunken-in, sparkling, beautiful brown eyes; and his wild hair, as black as night. Every day I've regretted treating him as I did in the beginning, mentally slapping myself for being so shallow and not seeing his true self before.
I still remember that night as if it was only yesterday. Edward made me the happiest I've ever been in my life. I couldn't believe it when I saw the snow outside the window, and it felt great to dance among the frozen flakes and have them melt on my warm skin. I should have known it wouldn't last.
I remember how it went from bad to worse when Jim startled him, causing him to scratch me – and he had the audacity to act like it was Edward's intention.
I also remember the fear – the fear for Edward's well-being. I had fear for Kevin's safety, too, when Jim practically ran him over. The only time I wasn't scared was when Edward killed him. I was shocked, yes, but not scared of Edward. I could never be afraid of him.
Then I remember red. The glaringly bright police lights, the red blood on Kevin's face, on Jim's arm and stomach, and on my pure white dress. Despite the blood stains, I never washed that beautiful dress, nor did I let mom wash it. I still have it, safely tucked away. I can't bear to part with it.
Staring at the falling snow, all that is brought back, nearly sending me to tears. I regret never seeing him after that, but I can't go back now. I couldn't do that to either of us. The white ballerinas continue to spin and tumble to the ground and I silently send him a telepathic love note, like I do every time it snows. I pray in vain that he hears it.
Turning back to my grand-niece, I hold back the tears.
"Snuggle in, sweetie. It's cold out there."
