Winter Never Left

[CW: blood/death]

“I feel alive.”

I looked over at her, and couldn’t help scoffing, “Do you?” 

If she noticed my derisive tone, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she smiled, eyes closing shut as she relaxed against the sand. 

The water lapped at our feet—an icy rush that sent goosebumps up my legs. The ocean had yet to match the spring breeze. It stung. It was nothing but a reminder that we hadn’t made it out of winter’s grasp, though it was easy to ignore with the warmth all around me. 

Warmth like Cassie telling me she feels alive as she bleeds out beside me. 

Warmth like the blood pooling from my own body—sticky and smooth and matching her’s.

“It’s freeing, I think,” she said. She fisted some sand and watched it slip from her hands like an hourglass counting down the minutes. “I mean, we don’t have to worry anymore.”

My head rolled back and I sighed. “Easy for you to say. You’re an optimist.”

I couldn’t see her face now, but I knew she sent me a smirk.

“You would still find a way to worry at a time like this, Shu.”

Ah. There was that warmth again. 

“Of course I would!” I exclaimed, trying not to wince at the stab of pain that jolted up my spine. “Think about the team. They’ll be devastated.”

She hummed. “We did our job, though.”

I scoffed again and she laughed.

“Not as optimistic as you thought, huh?” Her voice was cheeky. How she managed in the state she was in, I didn’t know, but it still drove me crazy. 

“I take it back,” I sighed. “You’re just weird.”

“Wrong.”

“True,” I replied emphatically. 

She broke into a fit of laughter that was so contagious, I started laughing too. I’m pretty sure I was going insane. We both were. How else could I feel this happy at a time like this?

The laughter morphed into giggles, then nothing but small huffs of air as we tried to regain our breath. It wasn’t the laughter that was suffocating us, though I wanted to pretend it was.

Silence followed.

A warm breeze kissed my cheeks. 

It felt unfair. The peacefulness around me. I thought about my mom. If her day looked anything like ours, she’d probably be strolling through her garden, talking to the plants and convincing anyone who was willing to listen that it really did help them grow. Or maybe she was sitting on the back porch, staring at the clouds as she patiently waited for a letter that would never come. 

I closed my eyes and felt the sun on my skin. 

I hoped tomorrow would look the same for Mom. Clear skies, gentle sun, green grass, and warm spring breeze. 

Secretly, I hoped I’d be able to see it. That I’d be able to see her. 

Cassie coughed.

The cold waves splashed my legs.

The tide was coming in, I realized. The water had snaked its way all the way up to the small of my back. 

“What happened?” Cassie asked.

I looked to my side and she was already looking back. Somehow, she’d managed to grab my hand without me noticing. She squeezed it and I squeezed back.

“What do you mean?” I asked. A lot had happened. The question was too vague.

“You were smiling just now,” she said, and her eyes surveyed my face. “But then it left.”

Another scoff begged to escape my lips, but I found I couldn’t quite muster it. 

“I remembered something,” I said. 

Winter.

“Unremember it.”

“That’s not a word.”

“It is today.”

“Since when do the laws of grammar make exceptions?” I sent her a look.

“Since we started dying,” she said, so confidently it made my stomach sick.

I swallowed, and turned away, staring at the sky again. 

“Smile again,” she said. 

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” 

The water was inching further up my back, but I couldn’t really feel it anymore. 

“Because I can’t.”

There was a short silence. I thought Cassie gave up, but then she spoken again.

“What were you thinking about, Shu?” She paused. “What made you smile?”

If it were yesterday, I would’ve stopped her there—looked at Cassie and told her she was being too nosy. She was too nosy most of the time. Always butting in and asking questions I didn’t want to answer. But today, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“Mom,” I said. 

A soft sound escaped her lips. 

“Thinking about her doesn’t usually make you smile,” she said quietly. I think she squeezed my hand then. I didn’t know anymore. “What changed?”

“Who knows,” I said, watching a cloud cover the sun, giving us momentary shade. “New perspective, maybe?”

Cassie laughed, but only in the way her body shook. “Since when were you one for new perspectives?”

I glanced at her with just my eyes, my head too heavy to move any further to the side. 

Blood glinted in the rising water—too pretty for what it meant. Her hair was splayed, looking grey with the white beads of sand riddled within it. She had on a ridiculous smile, like the one she’d worn when we’d graduated, gone on our first mission, and come back a little bit crazier than before. 

I took a breath and let go of something. 

“Since we started dying,” I said. 

Her eyes widened, mouth parting like her breath was stolen. Then her lips formed a line and she nodded once.

The sun broke out from behind the cloud. I had to close my eyes when its beams hit us again. 

“They will be sad, huh, won’t they?” Cassie mumbled as if she was just realizing something. “Almost makes me feel bad.”

The team, I realized. She was talking about our team.

“About time you accept that they care about you.”

“Didn’t mean for that to happen.”

I couldn’t sigh anymore, but I knew she could still sense my exasperation. 

“You’re just as bad with things,” she protested. In my head, I could see her face flushing. It made me smile. 

“Yeah,” I said, thinking of my mom and our fight. For the first time, the thought of her stubbornly waiting for me to just come home made me want to cry. “Looks like we’re both idiots, huh?”

“Two peas in a pod,” she agreed, barely audible over the waves.

The warmth of the sun and the sand and Cassie started to swallow me. 

“Still feel alive?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said somehow. “I do.”

A pause.

“Do you?”

I thought about it. There was too much I still had to do. 

“No,” I chuckled. “Not at all.”

“You and your worrying,” she sounded undeniably affectionate.

“Someone’s got to do it,” I said, imagining the way she’d try to look exasperated as she fought back a smile whenever I responded like that. 

The waves lapped again. Absently, I realized they were almost to my chin.

“Yeah,” she agreed for probably the first time ever. “Better you than me, though.”

The corner of my lips rose and I wanted to laugh with her again. 

But laughter didn’t follow. 

Nothing did.