Our Tainted Dream

Six: A Burnt Memory

A burning fire, But cold as ice.

Reid's POV

The thin forest fades in the corner of my eyes, the sidewalk cold from the morning air. For the fifth time in the last ten minutes, I suck in another breath, shaking as I do so.

The way back home is quiet. No one mutters a word. Not that we have anything to talk about. The neighbourhood is quiet as well, as it usually is. I can't seem to keep my eyes off the children playing, screaming out in joy as they jump in the kid pool. Nothing much.

We walk until the familiar pavement comes to view. The few bushes lining it, small daisies that decorate the front of the house and the tall wooden door separating me from what lies behind.

Loureis stops, drawing one hand through his dark hair. My body moves faster than my mind, bumping into his back. In which, earn a glare from me, sharp as a razor. His lips play an irritated sneer, gritting against one another. Any kindness he had during that night, gone.

He fiddles with the key, turning it in the keyhole before realizing it's the wrong one. After a few attempts, the door finally clicks open, creaking as it hangs on rusted hinges.

Father dramatically leans against the sofa, his back resting against the armrest though he does not sit. The fireplace across the room is lit, unlike before, burning red and orange. His eyes waver over the book in his hands, old and thick, his fingers playing with the fragile pages.

"Sad," He mutters, flipping the pages, lips curling into the smallest smirk. Loureis holds my wrist behind my back, kicking the back of my knees so I kneel. But his hands quiver ever so slightly. From fear? From guilt? I doubt it's the latter.

"Mum's cookies are so nice, it's the best. She always gets flour on her nose. It's really cute." He scoffs, raising one brow. He even tips his head, reading in a mocking tone. "I hope I can be with her and celebrate our birthdays together. Maybe even a cake."

Since when do I get cake? Since when does my imagination gets the best of me?

My cheeks flush red with shame; my eyes fixed on the floor. Celebrate our birthdays together. Funny, I've never celebrated my birthday before. Waste of profit, waste of money.

No one remembers them, no one cares. Not after what happened on that very date. It's almost like a reminder. A sorrowful day. As if it's a sin to even celebrate.

Mum is different, of course. Everyone looks forward to it. Her friends, Loureis, father. On that day, father looks the happiest. For his wife, for his beloved that he murdered. Now he grieves, putting the blame on his eldest son. As if regret, as if he had no choice. He chose to live a lie than the truth. And I can't stop him.

Because I'm living in it too.

"I wonder whose book this is." He muses out loud, chuckling deep in his throat. "A diary? A journal?" I do not answer. "Hmm, birthday boy?" He starts, striding along the floor.

I flinch at the name. Birthday boy. Dear, if I was a child I would scream in joy. Happy to know someone remembers, someone cares. Now it hurts like a thousand bee sting.

I stare at his feet, his shoes polished and gleaming from the fire. He wiggles a foot, looking at it with a raised brow before looking back at me. "You are such a sad person. Not to mention, a sad hand writing" He laughs.

"This—" He leans down, putting a hand on my dangling necklace. "This is sad too." My heart jumps when he snatches it off, making me squirm beneath Loureis' grip.