It's a cold, windy December day. I look around, the wind hitting my numb face. I hold out my hands and let the small, delicate snowflakes melt into them.
I go back to all the memories I have walking down this road. My uncle pushing me on a sled, my mom running with me, my dad teaching me to ride my bike. Out of all the memories I have my favorite has to be when my uncle walked with me. He talked and talked with me. About life, guys, and everything else. He knew what I was going through. Even though it has been 5 years since I lost him to cancer, the pain is still a knife digging deeper into my skin. I was only 13. Not ready to lose the only person who truly understood me. The only person who truly cared.
A tear rolls down my cheek as I remember seeing his lifeless body sitting in his favorite chair. That chair came with so many good memories but now it is filled with that horrific moment.
I wipe the tear from my face, trying to wipe away the fresh pain. I turn around to go back to my house. I listen to the crunching of my boots in the snow and smile. I've always loved that sound. I have no clue why, it's just always sounded so amazing.
I look down and see a drop of red. Is that blood? That wasn't here before. I ignore it. Some kid probably just fell and scraped their knee, so why worry? I look over and see more blood. Each a small drop. Each making a little red circle in the perfect, pure, amazing, white snow.
Curiosity overpowers me and I follow the small blood trail. It leads to a ditch. I debate over whether to look in or not. Finally my brain gives in to the curiosity and I take a quick look.
Laying there in the ditch is a woman's body. She's bruised and bloody. I would check her pulse, I would check and see if she's okay, I would try to help her. But with the amount of blood in the snow is too much. She's not alive. She's not breathing. She's laying in the blood. That's her blood. That's her red blood in the white snow.
