Saviors (Completed)

15. Letters From Your Better

Waking up was no longer the pleasure it had been a long time ago. There always was some kind of a fleeting moment when I was whole again but it evaporated faster than summer rain off the burnt earth.  

I yawned, sitting up in my bed and whipping my eyes with my folded fists. Friday laid stretched out ahead of me, the only thing I needed to do was swing my legs out from the warm covers and walk down the stairs, but I really didn't want to.

"Nina!" My mother's voice rang through the house. 

"Keep your voice down, woman!" my father shouted back from the other end of the house. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Your idiot, you're not the one with the pants on in this house!" she snapped back, not backing down from a fight she knew she would win. 

"Just shut up," he said, followed by a shatter of glass. Out of habit, I covered my ears with my hands, squeezing shut my eyes and curling up into a little ball. 

The house went quiet fast, maybe a little too fast. 

My mother had called for me. 

My feet found their own way out of bed and down the stairs, where my mother rolled her eyes, her arms sitting firmly on her sides. "What is it?" I asked, yawning. 

Her hands found her pocket, swaying a white letter up. "This is from your brother," she said, swinging it over her head. "Why would your brother send you anything?"

My eyes grew bigger than teacups and in a fast movement, I snatched the paper from her hands, jumping out of the room. "Thanks, Mom," I yelled to her, giving her a wave. 

The letter was half yellow, half white and didn't sparkle in the light or glowed with a refined whiteness, it just looked plain and boring in the palm of my hand. As I twisted it around, together with opening the door and walking out, I couldn't quite figure out if I wanted to open it or burn it with the wildest fire. 

Would I get hurt? Probably. Would it make me hate him more? defiantly. Would it make me miss him more? Sadly. 

My nails dug under the opening, tearing up the envelope and fishing up the paper note inside. Mulitple folds were crossed all over the surface, displaying the fact that he had opened and folded it many times. 

I carefully unfolded it, the soft paper brushing my fingers. The handwriting was exactly as always. Weird A's and H's. I smiled softly, whipping away my thick hair and strolling down the street.  

"Come one, Nina, read it," I said to myself, drawing in a deep and calm breath. 

Dear Nina. 

As I write this the clock have just turned 11:38 pm here. My hands are actually shaking. Crazy, right? Anyway, I wish you could be here with me, however, we both know that can't be. I am sorry for leaving you there, but it was better that way. You were only thirteen and needed Mom and Dad. 

Anyway, for a long time, my mouth has only been filled with sadness and regret. I left because I couldn't take what happened in the house and I didn't think about how you took it: how you felt. It must have been far worse for you and I am sorry for being so selfish. I hope that you can forgive me one day. For now, I'll keep what I have of you close to my heart. You're still the only girl in my heart and will always be my number one. 

I hoped I could move on here, however, as time passed my grief over losing someone as dear to me as you have caught up with me, slowly strangling me. For a long time, I've wanted to travel home, home to you. To stand before Dad and tell him what I think and give him a great punch and to tell Mother how much of a disappointment she is to us, but I just can't; not yet.