April 11th
The darkest hour
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Peter squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep, shaky breath as he held his brother, who was curled against his side, tears rolling steadily down his cheeks as he sobbed quietly.
They were both squashed into one hammock, Peter trying his hardest to make sure it didn't tip them out, and there was no room to move, but if anything Edmund just wanted to get closer to Peter.
He was gripping his side so hard his knuckles had gone white, and Peter couldn't imagine the pain that the still healing wound was causing his little brother.
He'd woken from a nightmare only two minutes ago, one so bad it left him screaming and incapable of even moving except to cling onto Peter like he was clinging to driftwood in a storm.
Peter's heart was breaking for him, but he held close, whispering comfort in his ear for the next hour, never once letting go, not even when his brother eventually cried himself back to sleep.
That hour was honestly one of the worst for Peter, one of the darkest he'd ever experienced, just to hear his brother cry like that, to have his brother in that much pain, to know there was nothing he could do to stop it.
20 years down the line he still remembered that night like it happened last night, no matter how much he tried to forget it.
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Thank you for all the comments on my last chapter, it means a lot that you were all so understanding, and I hope you don't mind another short chapter. Perhaps in a couple days I'll write a longer one :)
