ROSIER

4

Guilt
...

The first time Gwen learned about death, she was six years old. Her hair was shorter and of a much lighter blonde. The biggest treasure she owned, two pearly hair clips poorly put into place, shimmered in the faint lamppost light.

She ought the headband the homeless woman wore, a beautiful flower print, a captivating sight as she laid there motionless on the ground.

It was late. Much past their bedtime, but Bellatrix said she wanted to show them something. A surprise, as she pulled the twins out of bed and down the street.

"Why is she not moving?" Evan asked, falling to his knees trying to wake the woman. Bellatrix's laughter haunted the scene. "It's cold here. Miss, you will get a cold. Bella, we have to help her!"

Gwen understood much faster. The lifeless eyes told her everything a child needed to understand. She put a hand on Evan's shoulder, slowly pulling him away from the woman.

"It's alright," Gwen kept whispering, unsure whether she was talking to her brother or herself. She held him in her arms, tears dousing her pyjamas as he silently sobbed into her shoulder. "Everything's going to be alright."

Their much older cousin watched them for a moment. The gentleness with which Gwen defused her game was irritating. The fear she aimed to induce faded in comforting whispers and protecting hugs.
Bellatrix looked back and forth between the body and the children before harshly gripping Gwen by her hair.

"Not a single word to anyone,"

Bellatrix's voice howled like thunder through Gwen's head now, accompanying the green lightning in the cruel haunting of her mind. Pain became apparent when she woke up again. Consciousness flowed back into her limbs, which were stained with cuts. Voices became audible around her, starting as whispers before sounding loudly and familiar.

None of the words made sense to her. All attention she could bring up in her state of being circled the one impossible thought. She was alive.
There was warm air, the smell of home, and a comfortable bed beneath her. A part of her feared to open her eyes. Feared it to be a dream. A last remedy before everything would disappear into endless nothingness forever.

The sight was blinding her. Broad daylight crashed through the windows of the hospital wing.

Instantly, she was hit by a wave of headaches, all rooted in the wound on her left temple where the stone met her fall. The blonde bit her tongue. Her jaw tense as she turned to find Madam Pomfrey standing at the edge of her bed, lecturing Evan and Sirius on the proper behaviour expected in a hospital.

It wasn't hard to recognize the fight that must have escalated between them, Sirius at an even bigger disadvantage than usual judging by the clear state of hangover he was in.

"Excuse them, they were raised by wolves, they don't know better," Gwen spoke, her voice hoarse and so strange the three seemed to take a moment to realize it was her ragged body talking to them.

"Gwen," Evan said softly. If he were a little younger and she covered in fewer wounds, he might have even hugged her.

"How was the trip to the other side?" Sirius commented, enjoying the glare sent his way by Evan.

"Looks like you're moments away from finding out yourself," The blonde tried to move but was quickly stopped by Madam Pomfrey.

The nurse asked, or better say, threw the boys out before inspecting Gwen carefully.
She gave her a potion to drink against the pain. The headache swiftly lifted into a shallow waiting room, anticipating to come back. Gwen noticed the cuts, which weren't too deep but burned nonetheless and remembered the bush she hid in.