Until It Kills Me

It was the coldest day Ireland had seen for centuries, or so the teachers had told us. Us kids didn’t like to talk or know so much about the weather – neither did we care. We were all perfectly happy just as long as we could still play outside – and we could, of course with an extra layer of clothes on.
However, when the bell rang, Mrs. Tate still held me and my little brother Kain back.
“We were instructed to keep you overnight”, her thick Scottish accent made her words seem even more forced than they already were “In case of an emergency”
Kain nodded, oblivious as he was, and mumbled something about him not eating his lunch today turned out to be a good thing.
I, however, couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong – and what had happened since they made Mrs. Tate lie. She never lied, and it was a shame that she had started now. At that time, I knew so little about the woman I thought I’d known ever since I took my first baby steps – and now, 13 years of age, I thought I knew her better than anybody else. Not only was she my teacher; but she was my rock as well. Kain, being 6 years my junior, had just started school and therefore thought it perfectly normal to be staying over at school after hours.
“What emergency?” my voice, just a mere whisper, as the sun began to set outside
“I ‘ont worry yer little brains, love” she replied softly, still a bit forced – or maybe that was my imagination
“I demand to know”
“Then go home”

I was taken aback by her sudden change of tone – go home? Wasn’t there an emergency, a danger back there?

“I’m taking him with me” I said sharply, walking towards the end of the room, scooping my now sleeping brother in my arms – he was as light as a feather, and I mere skin and bones was happy that he was. I knew if he had weighed even just a bit more, I would not be able to carry him all the way home.

As I walked out the doors, I felt the icy wind hit my face. To my surprise, I found it cold, but not unbearable – as the teacher had told me. It was almost completely dark now, and my young eyes beamed with light. I had always been praised for my good eye –sight, something my parents thought of as a great gift.
In my arms, the little boy shifted his weight around, mumbling softly against my chest. I wondered what he was dreaming about, and I knew he was, because when I looked down I could see his eyeballs moving rapidly from side to side. Oh, how I would miss him when I left. Of course I didn’t know I would have to leave so suddenly back then – that day.

The smell of blood caught my nose about 10 miles away from our house – that’s when I started running. It wasn’t just cold now, it was raining. Hard, small icicles hit my face, my hands, and my neck. Shivering, and trying to keep my brother warmer than I was, I continued running. The smell grew stronger for every step.
Almost at our door, I turned around and ran back. If anything bad had happened, as I suspected, I had to keep Kain safe. Without a sound, I placed him in the nearest stable, making him a bed out of hay. It was warm, and I knew in the morning, the farmer would find him – and hopefully, he would take him in. Bending down to kiss his forehead, the feeling I know remember as déjà vu hit me. I knew I would never see him again – not even in death.

Walking back, my mind was blank – thoughtless. I only kept on breathing, which I did through my mouth now. The smell of blood was burning in my nostrils, and made me feel like vomiting. Above me, the sky was black. As if the rain wasn’t enough – we would have a thunderstorm in a matter of minutes. All I had to do was stay calm, nothing had happened. My father had only decided to do the winter slaughter a bit early this year, and it wasn’t human blood I smelled. Or well, that was what I was telling myself those long seconds it took me to walk back to the abandoned house. Everywhere was shattered glass, and the wooden door was no-where to be seen. Inside, perhaps. Maybe he’d decided to remove the door and kill the cows inside our house. My thirteen year old mind found perfect logic sense in that – in what others would have thought as utterly ridiculous.
Then... I heard the screaming. The piercing, bone shattering scream of which belonged to my mother I knew would haunt me for years. It wasn’t any words she screamed, just a long howl in pain. My ears must have blocked it all, because it seemed like she had been screaming for a while when I picked up the sound.

Blinded by shock, I walked into the entrance, finding my mother in a pool of blood – my father nowhere to be seen.