The Scientist

Grief

Xisuma pov:

The night was heavy with a palpable stillness, only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves as a gentle wind wound its way through the trees. Branches swayed softly, their shadows cast by the moonlight, creating a dance of flickering shapes on the ground. The wind carried a soft, haunting tune, almost like a whisper in the dark, a sound so subtle it seemed like the earth itself was sighing. Every breath felt cooler, and in the silence, there was something deeper—a void, a hollow space left by loss.

When I first saw the Bavarian cream donut, red and white like it always had been, I didn’t expect it to hit me as hard as it did. Grief can be strange that way, sneaking up on you in the quiet moments when you least expect it. I hadn’t thought something so simple, so ordinary, could unravel all those tightly wound threads of emotion inside me. But it did. It was only when I caught sight of the plushie that everything shattered. That damned plushie.

He was my brother. He was wild and fun, reckless and brilliant. A spark of hope in such a dark, dismal place, one that didn’t deserve the light he brought. But that hope... it got him into trouble. Too much trouble. He was always so full of life, so sure we could escape together. He’d planned it all out, down to the last detail. He believed in that plan with everything he had. I could see him pacing, mumbling strategies, eyes alight with ideas.

But he didn’t get the chance to make it happen.

I did.

His plan was foolproof, and in the end, I was able to free every other subject. It was a grueling task, pushing my body and mind to their limits, but it worked. He had made sure of that. Still, it was only me who made it out in the end. Only me.

The plushie stared back at me, still in its packaging, red and white like the donut. It was ridiculous, really. That mischievous grin sewn into its fabric—just like his. I couldn't help but think of all the times that grin had pulled me out of my worst moments. The way his laughter could chase away the nightmares. Gently, I brushed my hand over the plushie’s antennas, my fingers trembling with the memory of him.

The wind picked up again, this time a little stronger, stirring the branches overhead. They creaked and swayed, casting longer, darker shadows across the ground. The grief sat in my chest like a weight I couldn’t shift. The longing was almost unbearable, a deep ache that refused to be soothed. He should be here. He should’ve been here to laugh with me over how ridiculous this plushie was, to eat those donuts like we always did. But he wasn’t.

He was gone.

And all I had left were these memories, this fragile moment of connection to a life that had once been full of hope and joy. But now, all that remained was the silence of the night, the soft rustling of the wind, and the aching loneliness where my brother used to be.

No one really got to know him as well as I did. We were twins—inseparable. At least, we had been until they forced us apart. It felt unnatural, being without him, like missing a piece of myself that I could never replace. He understood me in a way no one else could, and in that bleak place, he was my anchor, my spark of hope. But they ripped us apart, leaving only fragments of memories and moments that I clung to.

I hadn’t even realized I was crying until the cool night breeze touched my cheeks, a subtle reminder of the tears running down my face. The cold was sharp, cutting through the warmth of my skin, but I didn’t care. I was alone on the patio, wrapped in the quiet, the night heavy with the weight of my grief. The red and white donut sat untouched beside me. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want any of it. It wasn’t for me—it was for him. He was supposed to be the one to try it, to smile that mischievous grin, to laugh about something ridiculous like we always did. But he wasn’t here. He’d never be here again.