Mirrors
Ciarra
"I killed my own brother."
Closing my eyes as I recall everything that happened 11 years ago, I let the painful tears flow from my eyes.
It was a secret that I didn't want him to know. However, I knew deep down that I have to tell him. It wasn't something that I should keep, especially from him. I don't want to keep secrets from the man I love anymore.
It took me a while to realize. The days I spent alone made me realize a lot of things.
Fear a lot of things.
And one of it, is my sudden realization about my feelings toward this man seated in front of me. I knew for a time that my attraction to him even from years before, was something that ran so deep, it almost drowned me.
The other was, if I wanted him to love me for me, I should tell him all about my past. Bare myself to him whole.
I want to be bare to him. All my secrets. All my flaws.
All that's left of me.
Even if it means I have to relive the pain and heartache.
And because of this reason, I told him my story.
Originally, I had two brothers. One older, one younger. Lyubov Aglaia, also known as Yula was the oldest among the three Callaway siblings. Despite not being a Callaway-born son, he was treated as one. Loved like one.
Then came me, Ciarra Adrasteia Callaway, the first living fruit of the love of Yula's mother and my father. I was treated like a princess, from the moment I was born. Turns out, it was rare for the Callaway clan to produce girls, as all previous generations were mostly men. Because of this reason, I was loved like no other. Pampered like a true princess, and treated like the heiress I am.
They all thought that I would be the last offspring, that my mother cannot anymore bear a child. However, eight years after I was born, my mother had another child. Lyones Alcina, Leon for short.
Just like my older brother, he was loved by the entire Callaway family. As the youngest of the three siblings, he was showered with gifts and love. He grew up not knowing any hatred and contempt. He was the personification of joy and life. He brought us warmth with his smile and laughter.
I took in a deep breath, my heart being sliced open as I recall the past that I had with my brothers. Ali held my hand tighter, rubbing soothing circles every now and then, giving me strength to go on. Somehow telling me he is ready to know me more. So, I continued telling him about us, about me.
Looking at my own reflection on his green orbs, I told him the event that broke my family.
The event that shattered me.
For some reason, Leon and I were always susceptible to cold temperatures. We couldn't stand the low temperature and would tend to get sick often during the winter season.
At some point in my childhood, I was diagnosed with mild hypothermia. It was winter and at that time, I couldn't stop shivering. Despite the heater on full blast, I still felt the cold creeping in my system.
When Leon was nine years old and I was seventeen, we went outside to play, Yula couldn't join us because he was busy studying. It was the aftermath of a snowstorm around December, and we decided to enjoy the snow. We wandered around the estate and discovered a little lake at the far north of the land. Leon wanted to check on the site, but I hesitated, knowing all too well how our bodies reacted to the cold.
I told Leon that he can check on the lake himself, while I was busy building a snowman. At first, I thought that he decided not to check on the lake, as we built a few snowmen that we ran out of carrots to act as its nose. But then I suddenly found myself running when I heard him scream. After I arrived near the lake, I saw him sitting at the shallow lake, his lower body submerged in the freezing water. He said that he was only looking at the fishes swimming underneath when the ice cracked, and he fell.
That night, I couldn't forget how low his temperature had gotten, and how severe his shivering was. At some point in the night, he stopped shivering, but his body continue to grow colder as minutes passed by.
That was when our parents decided to bring him to a hospital. There, we found out that he's reached the threshold for moderate hypothermia, with a temperature nearing 28 degrees, and was actually nearing the point of having severe hypothermia. At his age, it was dangerous, because a further drop of his body temperature and his heart could fail.
My mother couldn't stop crying that night, and I blamed myself for initiating that we play outside while knowing the conditions that we have.
After some time, he recovered, but unlike before, he's more sensitive to the cold. A slight drop of the temperature had him shivering and turning blue. I also noticed how he was growing thin. He wasn't eating sometimes and was constantly throwing up in the middle of the night.
That went on for months. However, it ended one September night. I wasn't home that day because I had to finish a group project, so I had to stay at a friend's house. At midnight, I suddenly got a call from my little brother, telling me that he misses me and that I should go home. Thinking that it was just one of his whims, I told him that I had a project to finish and that we'll meet the next day when I got home. Then he can hug me all day.
That never happened.
The next day when I got home, the house was gloomy. It was unusual because on a regular day, my little brother was always playing at the living room.
It wasn't a regular day.
My older brother then came to me, bearing news that shook me to the core. Leon had passed. Just an hour after midnight.
An hour after he called me, telling me to go home.
An hour after he said he missed me and wanted to see me.
If I had known that it would be the last day that I saw my little brother alive, I would've raced back home. I would've told him to wait for me. I would've told him to hang a little longer so that I can hug him one last time.
Even if it's just for a little while.
After that, I blamed myself for what happened to him. He died because of me. He's dead because of me. If only I hadn't insisted on going outside that December day, we wouldn't have discovered the frozen lake. He wouldn't have fallen over and have hypothermia.
He wouldn't have died.
I paused, taking a deep breath as my chest felt heavy with pain. He looked at me for a few seconds, before pulling me to his arms.
I can't help but cry harder at his chest as he held me to him. Caressing my hair in an attempt to calm me.
"It wasn't your fault." For once, I wanted to believe those words.
It wasn't your fault.
I heard them from my parents before. Heard Yula saying them to me every time we visited his grave. At some point before, I even dreamed Leon himself saying that it wasn't my fault.
Although I knew deep inside that I am partially at fault. I was aware of the situation. I was aware of our condition. But I ignored them all and played with my brother, thinking that he could have some fun time with me despite the coldness of the weather. How naïve of me.
How could I forget that he was just a child?
"I still have something to say to you." I whisper, feeling more tears fall. His arms around me tightened, as if saying that it's okay. That I should say it to him not because he needed to hear it, but because I wanted to tell him.
I wasn't ready to tell him this piece of information. But I know that it was long overdue.
Feeling the numbing pain deep in my soul, I uttered the words that I know would break us both.
Because it already broke me before.
My brother's death may or may not be my fault, but I know I was to blame for this one.
This one is all on me.
"I was pregnant."
