Winter (Not Edited)

Chapter 18

The next morning Emerson was out the door before she could wake up.

Emerson's thoughts were consuming his mind. He was murder. He killed his family. Burned his home.

He had to stay away from Winter when he was like this. Emerson knew that the weeks leading up to the anniversary of his family's death were the worst.

He couldn't even look at himself. He couldn't sleep. It felt like he couldn't even breathe. The guilt constructed his life, he was not in-control.

Winter awoken a bit later than normal. She first wanted to see Emerson, he had listen to her words, and didn't judge her.

Though after searching for him, and seeing how he left without breakfast. It felt as time had went backwards to the first weeks she had arrived at the estate.

Maybe he did judge her, she thought.

The day had passed and Emerson made no effort to show for dinner. Winter knew she still had to eat. Her heart clenched with every lonely bite.

Emerson's hands clasped around the bottle of whiskey he had be nursing the entire evening. He couldn't take it. The pain. The guilt.

A week passed at the estate.

Emerson drowned himself in whiskey.

Winter was busy trying to hold herself together.

Winter had came to the conclusion that she ruined their friendship. She should have never brought up her past, she still didn't understand why he would listen and then change his mind.

She had lost weight, she couldn't eat or sleep. She felt like she lost a part of herself.

He hated her, Winter thought.

Tears flowing from her tired eyes. The warm water engulfed her cold fragile body. She was trying to relax, but nothing could help her.

She climbed out of the claw tub and stood in front of body mirror. A sob escaped her mouth as she looked at her sickly looking body. She'd forced herself to finish a meal tonight.

She put a small night gown on as she made her way to the kitchen. It was late because she skipped dinner.

She jumped as she rounded the corner and Emerson sat at the counter eating what Winter assumed was his dinner.

She hadn't seen him in so long.

Emerson could feel her presence. Her innocence. For the first time this week he was sober. His thoughts were banging the inside of his temple.

He turned around and made direct eye contact with Winter. Her eyelids were lined with tears, but they had not yet fallen.

Emerson hadn't seen her this week, she looked terrible. His heart clenched with even more guilt. Look what you did to her, the voice in Emerson's head said.

His eyes raked over her body, she looked sick. He wondered when the last time she ate was.

Winter was still frozen in her spot.

Silence.

She missed his voice and wished for him to talk.

"Sit down." Emerson said gruffly. He sounded different, more rough.

Winter completely complied. He got up and started cooking something. She smiled softly at his actions.

After he finished cooking he sat the plate in front of the thin girl. "Eat." Emerson whispered to her.

She thought he would stay but walked out of the kitchen leaving her alone.

Emerson made his way to his room, his eyes were filled with tears. He sucked them up, he was a monster.

Slamming his door shut he grabbed the whiskey glass and drank it quickly. His knuckles turned white as his grip on the bottle tighten before he throw it at the wall. It was too much. Emerson couldn't take it.

Winter finished her food, and for once she felt tired. Emotionally and physically tired. Making her way upstairs, she wondered what she could do to redeem herself.