𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘀 | 𝗴. 𝗯𝗹𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗲

.it couldn't be

"IT COULDN'T possibly be true, Matthew! He was going to be alright! The caretaker said he was on his way to recovery!" Marilla tried to be as silent as she could while talking to her brother, but Margaret was no fool. Hiding at the top of the staircase, she listened to the conversation, careful not to be seen.

"I remember what she said very well, Marilla. But Mr Blythe was also very old. Maybe he couldn't endure much longer."

'What? What do they mean 'couldn't endure much longer'? Is Mr Blythe.... No,it couldn't be!' Margaret thought to herself while covering her mouth with her palm.

Sighing, Marilla sniffled before asking "When is the funeral?"

Margaret felt a pang of pain in her chest, her knees suddenly felt weak and soon they collided with the cold wooden floor. It couldn't be. He can't be. Dead?

"Tomorrow. At ten o'clock sharp." sighing, he took his hat and exited, leaving Marilla to sit alone in the kitchen.

The woman felt awful, she knew Mr Blythe and his son were kind men, and now he's gone. His son is alone. She wouldn't wish that on anyone. Though her thoughts were interrupted when a figure appeared in front of her.

"Is it true?" Margaret's blue eyes were now red from crying, her skin paler than it already was. The woman looked up and was met with a sad gaze.

"Is he really gone?"

"I'm afraid it's true, my child." wiping her tears away, Marilla looked down to her lap, not allowing the girl to see her crying.

"He was a good, kind man indeed. Did everything he could for his son and for Avonlea. I guess that God chose him to be his angel, having such a pure heart and mind. And I hope that he's better up there than he was here." Marilla's voice cracked as she reached for her tissue on the table.

Margaret couldn't take it anymore. Falling down on her knees and burying her head in Marilla's lap, she sobbed loudly, her body shaking and her heart hurting so hard, she could feel the pain throughout her whole body. She knew what it was like to lose her parents, and she didn't want Gilbert to feel the pain she did in that cold December night. The night she lost all hope. The night she lost everything. The events of that evening kept repeating in her head.

"Mother! Please! Wake up!" Hugging the lifeless body of a blonde woman was a nine year old Margaret. Next to her was a tall, dark haired man. They were lying on the ground in front of the Brown house, blood covering them.

"Father! Please! Somebody help!" Tears streamed down the child's face as she desperately tried to wake them up. Soon enough, a carriage appeared. It was black and two men came out,followed by a few more people.

"Please help! My parents, they- I don't know what happened!"

Ignoring Margaret, the two men checked their pulse, before looking at each other and shaking their heads disappointedly.

"They're going to be alright! A-are they?" whimpering, the girl was pulled up from the ground by two strong arms taking her to the carriage.

"No, please! I want to stay with them! Mother!" kicking and screaming, the girl cried, but to no avail.

"Mom! Dad!"

Gasping when she felt a hand on her hair, Margaret jumped up from the ground before backing up.

"What on earth? Child, are you alright?" Marilla was surprised by Margaret's sudden actions, but she remained in her place in the chair, looking at the girl worriedly.

"I'm...I'm alright, Marilla. I just.. need some water, is all." lying through her teeth, the girl went to take a glass of water, her hands shaking. Then she heard it again.

'Mom! Dad! Please!'

Pulling her hair, she slapped her head. "Stop! Stop it! I don't want to remember!"

'Mother!'

"Stop! Please, I'm begging you to stop!" her voice cracked as she tried to silence her sobs with her hand on her mouth. Closing her eyes, she heard a different voice.

'And I know I'm in love with you.'

Snapping her head up, she gasped before hearing the familiar voice again.

'I'm not going to leave you.'

It was his voice. Gilbert's voice. Quickly scrambling up to her feet, Margaret took her coat and scarf before running out of the house, ignoring Marilla's concerned yells.

He was there for me. I need to be there for him. I need to find him and tell him he's not alone.

Reaching the Blythe household, she rammed her fists on the door, before yelling out "Gilbert! Please open the door!"

But he wasn't the one to open the door. It was-

"Lily? Wh-where's Gilbert?"

The dark haired girl looked like she was crying, her hair messy and her sleeves wet. Poor girl. Sniffling, Margaret embraced her ,telling her it's going to be alright.

"I don't know where Gilbert is. Or where he might be. I just know that ever since that happened, he hasn't been here."

"Oh." Margaret was frustrated, running her hands through her blonde locks, she sighed before giving another tight hug to Lily and assuring her that everything was going to be alright and that she would find Gilbert.

After saying goodbye to the dark haired girl, Margaret groaned. Where are you,boy?

It was like a switch came on in Margaret's head and she remembered the field Gilbert took her to. He must be there. He has to.

Margaret never ran so fast in her whole life. Sure, it was harder in the snow that happened to fall over the past few days, but she somehow managed to reach the small path to the hidden field.

When she was finally there, she saw nothing. Maybe it was her bad eyesight or the slight fog, or the snow that fell rapidly on to her face, but she couldn't see him anywhere. Losing all hope, she angrily took a rock from the ground before chucking it in the field as hard as she could.

"OW!" hearing a familiar yell, she spotted a chunk of black hair lifting from the snow.

Running towards the boy, who was now very confusedly standing up, she yelled "Gilbert!"

"Mar-" he was stopped by a pair of lips on his own and hands around his neck. Hugging the girl, he sighed.

"I knew I'd find you." her smile was replaced with a frown when she saw the boy's tear stained face and red puffy eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Gilbert." hugging him again, she felt him sob in her shoulder.

"I'm not going to leave you." repeating his own words, she lifted a hand to run through his hair, comforting him.

Little did Margaret know, this would be the last time she saw Gilbert Blythe.