The Veins Inside

The veins inside but not the blood. The water’s surface but not its depths. A sky in summer but not at night. The blue flame but not it’s smoke. 

These were the things Ursa thought of when she stared into the alluring eyes beneath her. She removed her gloves to trace over the cheekbone, gliding across the pale jaw. The skin was colder than the snowflakes around her. The eyes never flinched. Though swirled within the iris’, there were touches of hazel brown softly arching through the vibrant blues.

“Anný,” Ursa sighed, “Elskan mín.”

Anný, my love.

With the sun departed and the snow already steeped into her woollen socks, Ursa didn’t count the seconds this time to the valley. She never cared for hiking, but her best friend, Anný’s did. Ursa just loved watching her oldest friend rush to the open fields away from all the tourists and set off to adventure alone. Her thin hair would be like spider’s silk that shimmered gold in the sun, and would whip behind her as she ran. Her cheeks would bloom into pink roses, and her eyes… her azure eyes would drink in the world, engraining every detail to memory.

But not any longer. Ursa had seen to that.

She sniffled against the drifting snow, feeling hair grow wetter. Now that she had found a place for Anný, everything needed to be perfect. Anný didn't deserve anything less. But then again, she didn't deserve any of this.

Ursa brought a flashlight with her, but it was clumsy in her hands as she struggled to unpack her bag. She chided herself for not bringing a lantern. It would have been more romantic too. A single flame against the wind.

She placed the flashlight down on the snow and pulled out a white springtime dress with sleeves that flowed around the shoulders and a lace belt. Anný hated white. She would say that white was a blank slate that held no feeling or warmth. White did not belong in a world as vibrant as theirs. But Ursa always loved Anný in white. It brought out the blue in her eyes, and Anný had the most extraordinary eyes. Even the touches of brown couldn’t ruin them.

Undressing a body that wasn’t hers was something Ursa had never done before. Although she always wondered. She never cared for those things, yet as she got older and watched Anný spend sleepless nights with strange men, she started to wonder. She thought about running her hands through Anný hair, to feel her lips and touch her skin. But Ursa only hoped that Anný would return home to her.

When she did, they stayed up late, and Ursa would listened to her friend talk about the bar and all the men who offered her drinks and empty compliments. That was when Ursa wished she could undress Anný the most. She wanted to show her that she didn’t need to find strangers to satisfy her. All Anný had to do was look at her – really look at her, and she would find exactly what she needed.

But she never did. So Ursa had forced her.

Once Ursa was finished donning the white dress on Anný, she looked up at the moonless night. The stars were always clearer this far from their apartment. It was one of the only things that the both of them enjoyed together.

The first time she met Anný, she had just run away from home, though that time it was only for the night. Ursa had escaped to a nearby park and sat on a swing, imagining that the stars above were guardian angels. She hoped that hers would find her soon. She once thought Anný may have been that angel. Her smile was like a holy light, and her touch seemed sacred. But angels do not betray those who they have sworn to protect.

Anný had distracted her and gave her laughter at a time where breathing easily was out of reach. But Ursa should have known that was the devil’s trick. They said they would run away together that night. They said they would always love each other, but only Ursa kept that promise. Even when her fingers went around Anný’s slender neck, she still could not fulfil her end of the bargain.

Although the devil played a long game, it was still deadly. Anný learnt that the hard way.

Ursa stripped her fur-lined coat off, ignoring the biting breeze. She folded it and placed it under Anný’s head. Her silk hair was loose and vibrant against the navy coat, like moonlight over water. She folded Anný’s hands over her chest and straightened the dress for the last time. Ursa turned the flashlight off, placed it back inside the bag, and took her place beside Anný.

It did not take long for her eyes to adjust to the dark. She was patient. Ursa always was, or so Anný would tell her. She remembered when Anný once said how Ursa was the rock, and she was the stream of water that danced and glided. But the stone did not want to hold the water back, yet the water could not escape its sharp edges. Ursa pushed the memory aside. She didn’t like it then, and she didn’t like it now. Not when she was finding the peace she was promised.

When Ursa could tell shadows apart, she focused on Anný’s button nose and the gentle shape. Unblinking lashes stared up above. Her eyes were as blue as her lips, and the lines around her neck looked like jewels made from unpolished sapphires and amethysts. Ursa sighed and watched the mist be taken by the growing wind.

Anný was beautiful, and Ursa had preserved her.

Ursa looked to the starry night. She folded her hands over her stomach like Anný. Even the dress she wore matched. She sighed again, hoping it would distract her from her shaking. When her lashes trapped the snowflakes, Ursa smiled sweetly to herself. It would be the last time they looked at the stars together.

Ursa made sure of this.