I stood looking out my bedroom window for the last time.
I could only feel numb at this point.
This window used to be my only comfort after I woke up from the terrors that consumed me in the pitch black nights. To be able to watch the outside world sleeping so peacefully when I could not comforted me in ways you could never imagine. The moon and the twinkling stars would sing sweet, echoing lullabies to my panicked heart through the clear glass. The night, no matter what terrors it would bring, quickly became my only friend in my desperate times of need. I dare not tell anyone of what I endure, the ghosts that haunt me and the thoughts that drive me far beyond the edge. When the night and its stars, along with the glowing moon shining high above, are the only companions to which you can open up, their solace become a welcome comfort in all of your torture. For in every dark eve, while I stare out a clear window, I will smile with the knowledge that my old friends and the window that I stood in front of today for the thousandth time was the only thing separating me from the stars I longed to wander beneath or to even become one day.
I stared up into the gray sky, running my hand along the smooth wooden frame encasing the glass. Why does it always seem that whenever your life is changing in ways that you could never imagine, the earth seems to stop? The world simply ceases its turning and time quits continuing. Yet you are the only thing changing. And the world will never change with you.
It was a conclusion I had come to a long time ago.
My fingers stopped when I felt the grain of the wood give way to what felt like tiny cracks, a minuscule canyon carved deep into the heart of the soft pine. My eyes soon began to follow my fingers as they traced the carving, almost as if it was ingrained in my memory just like it was in the wood. Suddenly, the indentations came into focus and I could see every intricate detail.
The carving was of a beautifully detailed flower, and I would know that bloom anywhere.
It was my drawing.
My iris.
Recollections of distant memories flashed through my mind, in and out like an old film reel. It was raining outside. A wild storm. I was sitting with my head against the sill, pale skin reflecting the glittering droplets of water, shadowy waves cascading down my back. I was using the pocketknife that I had stolen from a kid named Luke a while back. Which I was intending to return. . . eventually. I tactfully planned every line, every detail, before I dared to carve it into the soft wood. I had done the flower by memory, not even recognizing how insanely progressed my art skills had become. I had never known myself to be an artist really. Surprise.
I remembered not wanting to just carve my name. That was too straight forward, and in my opinion, not personal enough. The wood deserved a heartfelt piece of art, a permanent memory of me to keep in its heart forever. It's not as though I was really planning on defacing property that was not mine. . .okay, maybe I was. BUT. . .but. . . considering that I had quite possibly been the orphanage's longest resident, I was just as much a part of it as it was of me. Selfish? Maybe. Meaningful? I'd like to think so.
As I reached to trace the flower one last time, I felt a light touch brush against my arm, sending shivers up my spine. At first, I thought it to be just a breeze drifting through a small gap near the window. Then, I heard something. The words were barely there, but I could feel their presence against my neck, burning just beneath my ear. They weren't even a whisper. Each syllable was more like a breath, chilled yet delicate, careful yet poignant. I felt the essence in the air intertwine between my fingers, so cold and yet so very alive. My skin came to life, electric and tingling with adrenaline as I felt the distinct, gentle graze of a hand tracing my palm. It had to be just the wind. I knew it. But it felt so very real. The steady thrum of a heartbeat rang in my ear, creating the pulse of a melody with the raindrops and thunder booming outside. I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't alone. I wanted, desperately, to believe that there was someone here with me. Was it all in my imagination?
Heavy raindrops fell in sheets, and I felt my breath catch deep in my lungs as my mind recognized something in the storm. The water seemed to reflect a silhouette, features coming in and out of focus as the light filtered through. I caught glimpses of icy eyes, haunted with emotion. The sounds of the heart beating grew louder with each passing moment. The electricity that hung thick in the air mixed with the adrenaline coursing through my veins, and suddenly I could feel the breeze between my fingers grow heavy, as though the weight of a hand was now in its place. The sounds grew to a roar as the silhouette in the rain came to life. It was so familiar and yet barely there, as though it were the ghost of someone I once knew. The eyes came into complete focus, and they seemed to light up with a smile.
And then, just like that, it all stopped. The rain washed away the figure. The heartbeat quieted. I felt one last whisper lingering against my neck, soft and frigid. Except this time, it was almost as if I could hear the words. Like the voice in my head had spoken as the voice against my skin.
I am always in your heart.
And with that, the cool air slipped away, no longer intertwined between my fingers. I shivered once more as a bolt of lightning split the sky.
"Iris," I heard a voice call behind me. I jumped at the noise, whipping around to see Ginger observing my every move.
Time didn't just slow. It came to a screeching halt, as though the world quit turning and our hearts ceased to beat.
I tried to speak, but no words came. The look in Ginger's eyes said it all. I had always thought they were a vibrant green, but now they seemed deeper, more intense. The tears welling against her wispy lashes reflected in her eyes, making them swirl like watercolor on parchment or jade that's wet with rain.
We had spent many moments in this room. Just her and I. Together. Laughing. Crying. Staying up too late... talking about life... thinking that tomorrow never mattered so long as we had each other...
I remember the first time I met her as clearly as though I live that moment every day of my life. Having friends in the orphanage was like falling in love with the seasons. You found beauty in every gesture, every trick of the light, every secret shared within the passing days. You fell in love with the sights, the smell, the sounds, every little thing that you could possibly observe and take in. And you fell so in love with the moments that you forgot to realize they were passing you by. Every solstice gave way to another equinox, only to rise again another day, and so you stayed still, watching beneath the stars. You became so enchanted by the dreams that reality was a figment of your imagination. One minute you're holding each other's hands as you skip to the playground, and the next you're waving goodbye as they walk away, smiling back at you, holding the hands of their new family. The sun rises and sets, and yet you remain the same while the whole world changes around you, day after day.
That all changed for me when I was still a very young girl. Though I didn't live in exile at the orphanage, I knew that I was different. Whatever it is that plagues me now has been with me since birth, a demon born of my creation. It isn't something you can get used to, but I'm sure you can imagine how hard that must have been for such a young, fragile child as I to experience.
You're afraid to look at any reflections because you see strange worlds and unfamiliar faces staring back at you, and within it all you can see the demons hiding behind your gaze.
You're afraid of your own thoughts because inside you remember things that you couldn't possibly have experienced, you feel as though you know that of one who has lived for thousands of years, one who has experienced the world in all of its wonder, and yet you're barely even alive at all.
You're afraid to move because sometimes objects move towards you, or something catches you just before you fall, something breathes softly against your ear and strokes your hair until you fall asleep, a rather beautiful gesture until you open your eyes and realize that there was never anyone there.
You're afraid to look for the shadows lurking just in the corner of your vision because you know what they'll do to you even if you so much as glance.
You're terrified of closing your eyes because the things that you can't escape during the day only get worse in the night, in your dreams, in your own mind, the one place that you should be safe.
You don't just fear the world, you fear yourself. And you tell no one of your secret hell because you know they'd run. You can already feel the venom of their words cutting deep into your very being, the horror in their eyes reflecting the monster that you truly are. And so you live with your pain day after day, learning to live with your demons because no matter how hard you try, they will never drown. And as a child, this terror is magnified, leaving you paralyzed within your own body, a nightmare that you can never wake up from no matter how many years pass you by. It doesn't help when you can see the families coming and going, see the curiosity and then pity flash in their eyes as they realize you are not a normal child. They can sense something off about you, and so years go by without you ever getting adopted. And with those years comes the realization that maybe you can't hide what's inside at all, and maybe you are just as unlovable as they make you out to be.
Charlotte was the only one who I really could hold close growing up. She was the one thing I could count on in my life. The orphanage had been run by her family since the day it was founded by two of her great grandmothers many, many years ago. The Thomas family has lived right alongside the orphans from day one, and Charlotte just happened to be the one that I grew up with. Though I can't remember a life before the orphanage, Charlotte has been by my side since I was a baby, and the fact that she has never left makes her all the more special. She was the best friend I could ask for, a sister in every sense of the word, with little less than a decade separating us. And that bond never changed when Ginger came around. I simply got another sister that meant just as much to me. My feelings are not and never were easily won, and just the idea that I could love someone so much seemed foreign to me as a child. However, the older I became, the more I realized who my heart truly belonged to, and who had gained a piece of it long ago.
I awoke from a nightmare that morning, my face wet with tears and my lip trembling in fear. At the time, I didn't recognize the face in my dream, one which I had seen for many years. Though I never quite saw a complete face, I always caught glimpses of features when I saw the girl. She had flaming hair that was a deep scarlet, reminiscent of a ruby accented by glistening strands of gold. I saw eyes that were emeralds swimming in a sea of speckled porcelain. Soft lips danced with a smile that was brighter than the sun... until the darkness seeped into my memories, tainting all that was beatiful with misery and terrible, terrible agony. I witnessed horrific things happening to her in my visions, but no matter how hard I tried, I never could save her. All I could do was watch as she was put through an unspeakable hell.
I had tried to shake the guilt of the nightmare by going downstairs where I knew Charlotte would be waiting for me. Since she wasn't the head of the orphanage yet, she was still able to spare a moment to enjoy breakfast with me every day. My small toes had just brushed the bottom step, quick with anticipation of the new day, when my eyes caught sight of a colour that was forever engrained within my memories. I caught a teasing flash of fiery red out of the corner of my eye. I was almost too afraid to turn and see if my eyes were deceiving me, too afraid of what I might do if I saw the ghost of my nightmares alive, in flesh and blood.
At first, I was careful. I crouched low and hid myself behind the tall balusters of the stairway, my watchful eyes tracing her every step, blinking every so often just to make sure that she was real. Porcelain fingers intertwined in a tight grasp with those of a young police officer, and a middle-aged woman in a crisp suit followed close behind the pair. I always think about how nervous the officer seemed, his face still full of youth and not yet worn down by the horrors of humanity that his job brought forth into his once-happy life. He was scared of the girl, worried that she would shatter like a porcelain doll if he made one wrong move. Her cheeks were tear-streaked and her eyes glossy as she chewed intently on the thumb between her rosy lips. Her eyes wandered, reflecting how lost she must have felt on the inside. Those were the same eyes staring back at me now.
I remember watching her cling against the officer as they carefully made their way further into the orphanage. Charlotte rounded the corner at what seemed to be the perfect moment, just as I was slowly beginning to stand, daring for a better look at the girl. My movement caught Charlotte's eye as she welcomed the newcomers. She beckoned for me to come down, to make friends with the girl. I was terrified. Tears rushed forth with every step that I took closer, welling up against my eyes and threatening to spill over. As soon as I was close enough to see that she was real, I rushed to Charlotte's side, unwittingly reflecting the scene I had been watching unfold right in front of me.
Charlotte cleared her throat, the first to break the unbearable silence weighing against the room. "So what is your name, sweetie?"
"Ginger," the girl replied with the slight twang of a child's voice.
The irony of her name was not lost on us as we grew older. She never took offense to it. In fact, she rather liked it. She felt that "Ginger" represented fire, a spark, something with spice and flare. Not to mention that she took great pride in her flaming hair, and any time anyone even dared to make a snide comment about her, they were quickly silenced. I guess she took "fiery personality" to a whole new level.
In that moment, the moment that I finally knew the name of the girl in my dreams, it had taken all of my strength not to run and hide. But, even as young as I was, I quickly realized that I had spent too many years running, too long hiding. I crossed the polished floors in one short stride and wrapped my arms tightly around the fragile little girl, holding her gently, carefully, as though she would slip through my fingers if I squeezed too tight. To this very day, I still remember the exact words that I told her.
"I'm Iris," I had whispered. "And I want you to know that it will all be okay. I promise. I wanted to give you this hug because I know how it feels. I know you need it. And I need it too. So if you ever need me, I probably need you too."
I remember hearing gasps being drawn all across the room, the adults just as astonished as I at my own actions. But that was it... that was all it took to earn her trust. Ginger had wrapped her arms around me and cried, saying three simple words that will forever be burned into my memory.
"I need you."
Coming back to reality, a sudden wave of guilt rushed through me as I realized how many secrets I had kept from her, how little I had told her about what was actually going on in my life, how much I actually hurt. She would have done everything in her power to ease this horror, but I couldn't even let the person closest to my heart inside my impenetrable walls. And yet after all of the strange things that she had inevitably seen, all of the things she couldn't have explained, she never once asked me about them. She trusted me with those moments, and trusted that I would tell her if and when I was ready. And yet somehow I never could bring myself to tell her any of it. And now her eyes bled the truth... pure, unfiltered pain.
Flashbacks ran through my mind, though they were grainy and blurred. That look was so familiar, and yet I couldn't bring myself to remember where I had seen it. The very memory of seeing a gaze like that brought forth a sharp pain deep within me. It was a look I only wished that I could take away from her face.
We had never been apart for more than a few hours at a time, if that. There was always a connection, an inseperable bond. And yet we both knew that this time was different.
The world began to turn once more, time returning to it's monotonous cycles and tired droning.
All that could be heard was the slow, steady rhythm of the pouring rain as each droplet reflected across Ginger's features, the light dancing with the soft freckles speckled across her cheeks. She began to move towards me, her footsteps slow and measured, as though she were afraid I would disappear completely if she moved too fast. I stood frozen, barely letting a breath escape my lips, completely aware of what was coming and yet so very numb to every impending consequence.
Ginger crashed into me with the weight of the world, her arms wrapped so tightly around my body that I could barely move my own to return the embrace. I could feel her hot tears on my skin as she nuzzled her face against my neck in a desperate attempt to get closer, no matter how impossible that may have seemed. Her tears seemed to burn deep within my skin, imprinting me forever with the pain and sorrow that I had caused someone I loved more than the world itself.
"Iris?"
I could barely reply, sobs choking back the words.
"Y-yes?"
"I need you."
My heart didn't just break. It shattered. It ceased to exist. It was gone. Every last piece.
"That's okay. I need you too."
And so we cried. I didn't let her go. I refused to let her slip away. The thin fabric of my shirt became soaked with her pain, her suffering seeping into my skin and relieving her of the agony as I took all of it for myself. I would take all of the pain in the world so long as it meant keeping her safe. I made a promise to protect her the first day that I saw her outside of my dreams, and I refused to break that promise now.
☾
"So I guess this is it," I muttered half-heartedly.
"No, it's not." Strong fingers intertwined with my own, tracing small circles against my skin. I looked up to meet the cloudy silver of Braiden's eyes, a soft twinkle in them as he stole a smirk and a discreet wink.
"You didn't really think you could leave without saying goodbye, did you?" Ginger reached for my left hand, not even giving me the option to reject it, not that I would have in the first place.
We stood looking out at the sky, watching the clouds part as sunlight filtered down through the light rain.
"What do we do now?" My voice was shaky. I could barely recognize it as my own with every word that slipped past my lips.
"The same thing we've always done," Ginger said proudly.
"We stay together," Braiden whispered, squeezing my hand even tighter, though I couldn't tell if it was meant to make him or I feel better.
"Right," I trailed off. "Because that's what families do."
I didn't question it. For once in my life, I didn't want to ask for reasons. It would all figure itself out, like things between us always did. I just watched the sun dance with the rain, delicately, gently, as the warmth of my friends' hands spread through my entire body, warming my heart... something I never really thought could be done.
"I remember the day that I found you on that doorstep, you know. I think about it all the time," a fragile voice cooed behind me. I turned and rushed into Charlotte's arms, crashing against her without a care in the world.
"All these years," she whispered. "All these years and nothing has changed. You still have those sparkling eyes. So beautiful..." she trailed off, sniffling.
"You better not be a stranger, darlin', you understand me?" She said, pulling away from the hug to cradle my face in her soft hands. "You come back any time you want. Call me day or night. I will always be here for you. I promise."
"Me too," I said, pulling her in tight for one last embrace.
"I love you, sis," Charlotte whispered softly between salty tears.
"I love you more," I wept.
Centuries passed between each teary embrace. I was too afraid to let go, terrified that if I did I would suddenly wake up and discover that these small little moments of peace were all just a dream.
The smell of fresh rain calmed my nerves as I warily made my way across the wet sidewalk, puddles splashing lightly against my ankles. My aunt, of course, had not come to retrieve me herself. She had sent a lavish, sleek luxury car complete with a clean-shaven chauffeur. Wow. Subtle. He took the last of my boxes from my arms just as I heard a high-pitched shriek rupture through the air.
"WAAAAAIIIIIIITTTT-,"
I turned just in time to be tackled by two young boys adorned in their superhero best.
"Fair maiden," Matty said softly.
"Yes, my prince?" I whispered against the wispy, white hair covering his ear.
"Will you return soon?" Peter cried.
"I can't let you leave. Please stay," Matty said, sobs bringing crystalline tears to his icy blues.
"I can't, you guys. I'm sorry," I said, my heart clenching tight in my chest, hurt by my own words.
"Please?" Peter gasped.
"We need you. We need you here. To protect us. You were the guardian of the orphanage, don't ya know? You protected everyone. You protected our family," Matty said.
"I really can't," I tried to say without breaking down even more, cradling the two tightly in my arms.
"Please," Peter whispered.
"I need you," Matty said between tearful breaths.
"Boys, look at me," I said. Two sets of blue eyes shimmered through golden mops as they both turned their faces up to meet mine.
"That's okay," I began. "Because I need you too. And I promise I will always protect you, okay? That's what families do. I will come visit all the time, and I promise you I will convince my aunt into letting you come see my new house. But listen to me."
Their eyes lit up expectantly, all sorrow washing away as curiousity took over.
"Now I want you two to promise me something, alright?"
They nodded in agreement, eager to help in any way they could.
"I want you to promise me that you'll always protect each other. No matter what happens you will always, always stay best friends, and don't forget to always have each other's backs. Okay? Because home is with those you love."
"Mhmmm, pinkie promise," they said in unison, wrapping their small pinkies around mine.
"But most of all, promise that you'll never forget me, alright?" I said, the words choked out by another wave of unexpected tears.
"Never," they said, hugging me tight.
"I love you two," I said.
"Love you always," they whispered as they each gently planted a kiss on my cheek. They turned to run back to the porch before realizing that they weren't done with me just yet.
"One more thing," Peter began.
"Here," Matty said as he pulled something from his pocket.
"For our hero," they said together, something they had clearly rehearsed, but it was special nonetheless. I watched as Matty carefully laid a black superhero mask in my hands. They reached for one more embrace before heading to the porch where the rest of my small, little, lovely family stood.
I waved a final goodbye before sliding into the dark car, the leather seats cold and uninviting as the rain began to streak down the window once more. My hand rested against the glass, begging to return to where I truly belonged as the car slowly pulled away. I watched as they all waved in return, collapsing into each other's arms in a fit of tears and happiness for me. They thought I was finally finding a family. But the truth was... I always had one. I had one in Braiden, in Charlotte, in Ginger, in Peter and Matty, and in everyone that I had ever touched at that orphanage. I would never truly be leaving them. They were my home.
I clutched the mask against my chest as tears rolled down my cheeks, cascading like waterfalls, reminiscent of the rain drops outside. That's when I felt the cool air again, brisk and alive. My skin tingled, with fear or excitement I couldn't be quite sure. It almost felt like the energy that had pulled me from my dark dream, the one I had fallen into just before Charlotte could tell me of my aunt. Something soft swept gently across my arms as I felt the heavy weight of an embrace fall against me. I felt gentle traces of air against my cheeks with every tear, and the slightest whispers could be heard. I couldn't tell whether they were in my head or coming from somewhere else, but somehow they comforted me. Then I heard distinct words. They were just barely there, as before, but they still burned just as intensely.
I need you too.
And it was in that moment that I could have sworn I saw those eyes flashing with hope between the raindrops.