Sunset Memories

Chapter 1 - Four Senses

I was awake, but I kept my eyes closed. 

     Allowing my other senses to explore the area around me, I imagined the dream that had haunted me throughout the night. My fingers gripped the cold bed sheets. Without opening my eyes, I knew that they were a light tan color. That the pillow my head had somehow found again was azure blue. That my curtains were dark green, and the jeans I was wearing were sand-colored. My black Vans lay underneath my bed, next to my blue T-shirt. Beside that was my sketchpad and pencil, the pages opened at an unfinished drawing of last night's sunset. 

     I could see my room so clearly that I raised a hand and touched my face to make sure that my eyes were closed. 

     And then the dreams appeared. 

     I'd tossed and turned all night long, screwing my bed completely. During the night, I remembered reaching out, shouting a name, and knocking something off my wooden beside table. A second later, I heard a tinkling of glass and felt pain in my limp right arm. Now that I felt it, I traced the long cut that stretched down to my fingers with dried blood.

     Danielle. 

     The name was suddenly everywhere. Written underneath my eyelids in the darkness, shouted through my ears, felt in my hands. I could even smell the specific scent of shampoo that she preferred: strawberry. And then I could see her. Her blonde hair streaked with brown, big green eyes, the cream-colored shrug she was wearing with her grey jeans. She was barefoot. She never wore shoes, especially in the summer. From the smell of my Vans, I could understand why.

     The lights flickered off. Something huge barrelled its way towards us as the train slammed on its brakes, throwing us off balance. 

     She was twelve, I was thirteen, and we were only eleven months apart. My older brothers called her a mistake, but of course, Mom and Dad came to her defence. They said that she was no mistake, and that they were happy to have her. My brothers said that of course she was; with three boys already, what more could you ask for than a girl?

     A deafening slam, the feeling of being picked up and thrown out of a window, and suddenly there was the front of the train inside our compartment. 

     But I still loved her. We gave each other Christmas and birthday presents. Often sat beside each other in school because we were in the same grade. I taught her how to say her first word once I had learned to speak. She shared her lunch with me in grade two when I forgot mine. I helped her with quizzes in math and science, the subjects that she struggled with most. She dropped hints for me about girls that liked me, and I defended her from idiots that tried to hit on her. We were closer than most siblings could get.

     Someone was crying. I turned and saw my parents, both of them hugging my brothers, tears pouring down their faces. That was weird. I never saw my parents cry. That made me feel even more scared. 

     She wrote the lyrics for the first song that got me a scholarship offer. And I felt guilty afterwards, because not only had she written them, but she had sung them as well. I just got the credit for my guitar. 

     I saw my sister lying on the floor, her eyes open in torturous pain, her body twisted and broken. 

     So many great memories. 

     I took her hand, praying for her to get up, and realized that she didn't have a pulse. 

     And yet I relived the worst one of all. Every single night.    

     I wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

     I opened my eyes.

     Danielle. 

     And she was still there.