Me, My Brother And The Colour Of The Sky

My brother. I hated him. The fact I was here now was entirely his fault. Running, broken. My legs couldn't stop moving, they wouldn't. Even after hearing the sharp cries of pain and regret from my mother, I would not stop running, because I can still hear what she said:

"If Wendy hadn't been born… John would still be here!" Her voice was trembling, and fists were clenched on either side of her floral skirt, "Why? Why? John didn't deserve to die! John didn't need to die for Wendy!"

"Listen. You can't say that about your daughter." My father said softly, he had his arms wrapped around her.

Mum looked fragile, and I knew she was just frustrated. She didn't mean anything she said. Still, I felt betrayed, abandoned. I stood silently on the other side of the door, frozen. My eyes widened. I slowly turned to look at the ground. The flowers I had once planted with my mother. I felt my face grow warm, as I bent down to rip them from the ground. I was crying. Tears softening the dry soil.

"Wendy! What are you doing?" An old wrinkly face bends down, his eyes meeting mine. I didn't answer him, instead my tears drowned away my vision as I stood up and took off.

"Wendy!" I hear Grandfather calling out as my parents burst out the door, all calling my name.

I gave a chesty cough. My legs weak and heavy like lead. I embraced myself as I collapsed to the ground, letting my tears rush forth. The muscles on my chin tremble like a child's, as I press my head against my dress. Blue.

Blue like the sky. Blue like the ocean. The ocean. Memories I wished I had long forgotten burst through my mind. John. John could not swim, yet seeing his little sister in danger he rushed to help. I wish that he didn't try to save me. Maybe then, I would not feel the guilt clawing at my insides. Maybe then, he would become a victim to self-condemnation. He would hate himself, for being too impuissant to save his sister.

A set of arms close upon me. They're warm, and they pull me close. I sobbed into his chest.

"It's okay Wendy… none of this is your fault." Grandpa's voice is soft and sweet. I clutched onto his jacket. He held me without saying a word. My tears soaking the front of his shirt, the coolness of his zipper pressing against my face.

The pain came in waves. I continuously wept, only pausing to take the breaths I needed before letting my tears, like dams, burst out again. I wished I could head home, to the bosom of my family, but my family was the reason I was crying. John was the reason I was crying. Without him I would be dead. I wouldn't be here, be anywhere. With him, I carried the guilt and the weight of "killing" my brother. I hated it.

I steered away from Grandpa's chest, my head spinning as I break from his seize. My mouth crumbled open, and I began hurling. My tears stopped, though still dripping down my face. The vomit came out like lawn clippings, chunks of food gurgling up my throat. The smell was one like acidic Cheetos. Grandpa rushed to my side, holding back my hair, a mix of disgust and worry plastered across his face. My mouth felt sticky and I didn't dare swallow the food still present in it. Spitting aggressively, the colour of my salvia stained brown from the puke.

"Come on! My car's parked nearby. I'll drive you home to rest." Grandpa began dragging me along, he's hand tight around my wrist. Maybe he was scared I'd run off again? I don't know, but I knew I didn't want to go home. I didn't want to face my parents. I didn't want to face my mother. Maybe the reality that I might not be welcomed scared me. Maybe it was the fact I knew I was childish for running away even though my mother was going through a hard time that scared me. I was scared to go back home, where I've lived ever since I was born. A place I thought I'd always be accepted. My steps were small and my feet were dragging along the ground.

The shadows of trees wavered across the ground. Looking up, I see the blue sky peeking through the limping maple trees. Light simmering through the gaps between the leaves, scattering across the rocky path.

My brother. I hated him. I hated him for sacrificing his life. I hated him for making everything blue difficult to look at. I wish I could forget. Even so how could I forget, when the sky is everywhere.