Every Drop of Blood // Dee

[Arrows]

Ice.

It crawls through my veins spreading its chilling pain to every last cell that weaves its way through my blood. My heart thunders in its struggle against the cold but its heat is fading. I can feel my body shivering viciously even though a warm air flutters through the kitchen. Steam rises from the sink below me yet all I feel wrapping around my face is the freezing winds of a blizzard. My body is giving way to hypothermia amidst conditions that are far from cold. I am trapped within the false arena where Prism fell and my meds can't reel me out of it.

The doctors have told my Father the pills they are supplying me with can help stop my fall into the abyss of insanity, but they are liars. I tried to stay strong footed on the ice of my life after Prism died, but I didn't have the skates I needed to balance on. Without Prism I lost all foundation I was standing on. I fell into the snow with him that day and when he went to rest I kept on shuddering. I have been freezing slowly more and more over the years while the rest of my family thawed. Prism's death set my Father free of disappointment where for me it took away the barrier between complete uselessness and a life worth living. To me, Prism was my Father, and now I am living underneath the reigns of the devil.

Tears begin to well within the corners of my eyes as my body grows ever weaker from the shivering and number from the bliss of ice. I can feel my breaths beginning to waver as the room of snow begins to ebb from light to dark. Everything around me from the counters to the dishes I am washing swirl in a vortex of panic laced with fear. Serenity slips to insanity as instability takes control of my muscles. I try my best to counteract the slope I am slipping down but the avalanche is too mighty. Frost bite devours me whole as a sudden large shattering sound explodes throughout the room like a canon. 

Like Prism's canon.

Several moments of pure darkness surround me before I come to sprawled against the wooden boards of the floor. My head rumbles thunderously with a throbbing pain as I force myself slowly to a seating position. I feel even more weaker than before now with my back against the counters for support while I sit. I am well aware of what has happened and of how to handle it. Slips into unconsciousness such as this have become a regular for my tortured soul. My Father actually believes I am improving my condition, but he never cares enough to really check. 

I slowly try to push myself to my feet but come slamming back down to a seated position. Bile rises within the back of my throat but I refuse to let my breakfast return for a second number. Tears now fully fall down my cheeks and for once I just let them. I feel like the numerous shards of a plate I was washing now scattered around me. I feel pointless and broken. Unwanted and unloved. A girl incapable of handling herself in a world without her older brother. Above all, I feel utterly pathetic. 

Shuddering sobs rack my frozen chest as my right fingers wrap harshly around a larger shard from the white plate. My grip tightens so much to the point I feel my fingers stinging viciously as I watch the red rivers run down my arm. I watch my blood dripping to the floor and yet I feel nothing except the sting. My thoughts wonder if Prism was watching me. If he was crying for having to see me in such a gnarled way. However all I want to do is to dry his tears. All I want to do is be set free from the shackles of life. 

I can sense my body begging me to stop as I raise the shard just above my chest. My sobbing now echoes so loud through the desolate halls of my broken home I am sure anyone could hear me. My blood continues to dive from my wounded hand as it now coats my white shirt in a thick layer of scarlet. Above me the sound of running water from the faucet I never turned off plays as a back ground to my final act as Diamond Nixton. My teeth bury themselves into my lower lip as tears stain my wrinkling face. Part of me wishes not to die yet the other part's allure feels so much stronger. 

Letting one last long hefty sob escape me, I prepare to plunge the shard in the general area of my heart. I only pray I have as much accuracy as Ellexias Versity had when she butchered Prism. My life is ready to be over. I am merely a rose ready to wilt its petals for the last time. It is then I become aware of the sound of footsteps and fear swiftly takes control. I only have moments to do the deed yet I feel myself stalling, why? But then it is all too late, for I hear the door to the kitchen swing open beside me and I know my opportunity has been squandered. 

Diamond Nixton

[ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ]

There was once a time I hated my cane, hated the fact that my appendages were just so—off. I wanted to be like my older siblings, able to run around without tripping from leaning too much to one side. I hated always needing help when it came to my schoolwork. But the older I became, the more my cane became a part of my appendages, the more the accompanying thump became a part of my everyday life. I stopped hating and started to embrace this part of me I could never grow out of. I had been in my room, getting lost in my own mind when I heard the thud. Our house was decent-sized—each child had their own room—but sound did carry, and I poked my head out of the doorway to see if anyone else had heard it. No one’s head met mine and I ran as fast as I could downstairs, my cane making a louder accompanying sound than usual, almost matching the sound of my heart as I ran towards where the water was running. The scene before me was a mess as my older sister, Diamond, was on the ground, tears falling down her face, blood coating her skin and clothes. It became almost instinct for me—even though I had no real knowledge of first aid—to grab the towel we used to dry the dishes and rush over to my sister’s side. Porcelain was scattered across the floor with one shard so expertly placed in Diamond’s hand, red spilling from its source. I had no time to make assumptions, no time to waste, as I gently removed the shard from my sister’s hand without looking at her, placing it gently beside me before tightly wrapping the towel around her hand. It was only after I was certain the towel was secured that I looked at my older sister in the eyes. Pain coursed through my body as I saw how empty her eyes looked, how much pain that was hiding behind the abyss. Her brilliant eyes were lifeless as I saw nothing but loss, and it was the first time I understood how medicine had failed her too. Our father thought he could fix us by masking our problems, but just like my growth, Diamond’s grief could not be suppressed with medicine. And it was at that moment that I felt like the older sibling, the first time I felt like I needed to take care of my sister. She was a few years older than me, but seeing her in that state, it felt like she had lost so many years. Still relying on instinct, I left my cane on the floor as I wrapped my arms around her tightly, kissing the top of her head oh so gently. Prism’s loss was great for all of us, but I hadn’t seen anyone more affected by Prism’s death than Diamond. Would she be like this if I had tried to connect with her earlier? Did I do my job as her brother? “I’m here, Diamond,” I whispered softly so none other than her could hear. “I’m still here.” I knew I could never replace my older brother, especially in my sister’s heart, but deep in my own heart, I knew I had to show her that I still cared about her, that I loved her and wanted to be there for her. I kept my arms around her as the shards of our dinner plates remained scattered on the floor around us. “Take however long you need,” I added, starting to smooth her hair while holding on to her.

[Arrows]

What began as a gentle fall of snow warps into a winter war. Lightning bursts from behind broken black clouds as snow seeps from its wounds in startling amounts. Winds whip wickedly across a porcelain scattered floor of wood and at once the house is gone. Time ticks turbulently as I fall through the abyss towards a demented dream I know only to be delusions of the past. Granuals of memories grow into the twisted timeline as their vines wrap around my limbs. Then my flight is over, and once again I am drawn froth from the wreckage of my fall to a time far from tomorrow. 

Over my head the symphonic songs of my violin toil through the air. Flickering orange flutters over the floorboards and across the wooden walls. The fire's flames sit trapped within the mantel as I remain firmly seated within one of our rocking chairs. As my fingers flick across the strings and my bow does as well, I feel a sense of peace peel over myself. There is no darkness draining my heart or shadows stealing my sanity. There is only music, my music, masking all the madness of the future. Hiding away the demons of death which dawn upon some unforeseen horizon. I smile.

Creaks creep from the worn wooden floor as a crescendo suddenly falls to silence. Eyes of blue meet matching irises as I turn to see who is joining me. A pristine non-butchered brother enters the room with his platinum hair glinting in the fire's glow. In his hand a pipe still spiraling smoke from its end with the initials PN engraved in gold on its side. Without a word and only a gentle nod towards me he crosses past my place to the other rocking chair and lifts the mouth piece to its proper place. Smoke slides from his thin pink lips and I watch as it speedily swirls before vanishing as thought it was never there. Then I silently string my violin and return to playing my song without even a single comment. 

Perhaps what in the time would have been an hour is spent within this serene moment of vocal silence. We enjoy each other's company but do not need to say it. Just being together was enough, it always was enough. Yet then the scene shifts with another boy younger than myself entering the room. His features are similar to our own yet his blood is only half as close to ours. But that doesn't matter to us, his name is Nixton and that alone makes him our brother. So silently I smile towards him as I let him join my private playing session. And so we were whole. All three of us united within a speaking silent scene but closer than we had ever been. Yet time changes many things, and so the scene shifts. 

Again the ice is in my veins and scarlet stains the towel now replacing my shattered shard. One of the boys from the scene still sits here with his arms wrapped around my groundless soul. The boy with the pipe has exited the stage and now my sorrowful soliloquy is stopped by the other boy's return.  In blindness I was stricken by grief and my reality altered entirely. I threw myself into a cell with only a single picture of the boy with the pipe buried in snow. I let myself become shackled to my sadness and poisoned by my Father's drugs. I let my words fall mute as my world fell apart. I let myself forget that I did not only have one brother, but two. 

His voice reawakens me from the sorrowful slumber. His arms cradle me as my crystal tears trail down my face. Weakly my fingers find his as they tighten their lace with his own. My irises find his and even through the veil of tears I see the same brother from the past. He is alive and I am too. He is here for me, even if I can't have two anymore. My whispers will the truth I have hidden to his ears and I fall to the pain of acceptance. 

"I don't want anymore time. Prism's dead and I have spent the last years wasting away. I don't want anymore time to grieve, I want to learn to finally let go. And above all I want to learn to remember that I still have another brother too. I'm sorry Pellin, I've been so blind."

Diamond Nixton

[ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ]

How things have changed. How things have broken my heart. My sister, my older sister, cradled in my arms as my hands soothed her hair. She was so stricken by grief yet her words struck me cold as she became determined to finally let our older brother go. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to hear, but it was not what I had expected to hear, not while her wrists still bled. Apologies fell on my ears but I didn’t want to hear them, didn’t want to hear my sister in a pitiful remorseful stage. All I could say was nothing as my hands and arms did the work for me. It was like something was stuck in my throat, like the words were trying to escape but could not squeeze past my vocal cords. When they finally made it past my larynx, they felt like sand paper as they scratched out and into the air. “You...you have nothing to say sorry for.” They barely came out as whispers but whispers were all I needed as my hands moved on their own, stroked her hair for me. “I’ll help you let go, Diamond. I’ll help you remember. But you don’t have to if you’re not ready.” Because was she really ready? What was going through her mind? “I’ll be here for you, no matter what. Even if you forget.” Were my sentences making any more sense than hers? “Don’t be sorry, Diamond. Don’t be sorry.” I had no experience with grief, not like my sister’s. She was tethered to the rope of grief that only she could cut, but I could still place my hands over hers. I could still envelop those now cold hands and help guide her through the motions. I just had to be sure that was what she wanted.