OCEANS | shirbert

X. The Worst Day

CHAPTER X

The Worst Day

in which everything shatters into million pieces

One of the worst days in Anne's life came two weeks after Christmas. It was just the beggining of the new year, but it had already been the worst day in Anne's year. Probably one of the worst days in her whole life.

She woke up with her usual energy. It was a beautiful, shiny Tuesday morning and Avonlea was covered in the thickest snow she had ever seen. Maybe it was the prospect of the new year, new adventures, new possibilities, but Anne felt ecstatic. Or maybe, just maybe, it had to do with the fact that she had agreed to visit Gilbert Blythe that same day after school. "I've found another box of old books in the attic and I thought that maybe you wanted to go over them?" he had told her, with his usual polite smile yet a no-longer nonchalant attitude, since he always seemed to be nervous or agitated about something.

Trying to shake the image of Gilbert Blythe's head covered in snow off her head, she made her way downstairs, jumping, dancing and humming some unknown melody. "Good morning, Marilla!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "Oh, isn't it beyond magnificient? Avonlea looks like a scenario straight out a fairytale!" she danced around the kitchen as the woman bit back a smile. "Anne Shirley-Cuthbert!" Marilla looked at her, pointing at her with a wooden spoon. "Will you sit down and eat your breakfast? God, child, this is the third year you've seen the snow!"

"Oh, but Marilla!" the girl pouted, pulling out the chair in which she had sat for over those three years. "It looks just as divine and it feels twice as breathtaking as the very first time!". Marilla shooked her head as she softly rolled her eyes.

"Where's Matthew?" Anne asked, chewing her breakfast. "I believe he's in the barn" her adoptive mother replied, sipping her tea as she looked out the window. "Make sure you tell him to come back to the house before you leave for school, alright, child?"

The girl finished her breakfast and got dressed as quickly as she could. She hoped she could enjoy Matthew and Belle's company for a few minutes before getting to school, so she kissed Marilla on the cheek and left the house, walking towards the barn, hoping she could tell Matthew about the lovely snow. He was, for sure, a kindred spirit, and understood her in so many levels, or at least, he tried to. Matthew Cuthbert was one of the few people that allowed Anne to ramble, to daydream outloud and to talk non-sense for hours -- she could really be herself with Matthew, since the very first day they met in that train station. And then he called her "her daughter". She smiled widely at the memory as she walked into the barn.

"Good morning, my dearest Matthew!"

Anne did not see him at first. She scanned the almost the whole barn with furrowed eyebrows until she spotted her beloved, adoptive father, lying on the ground.

She let out a piercing, pungent scream that echoed through the barn, which suddenly seemed bigger than even. Or maybe it was her, that was feeling insignificantly microscopic at the sight of her father's body on the ground, between piles of hay.

It was Jerry Baynard the one who had ran through the field to look for Marilla. The red-headed girl had collapsed next to Matthew's body. "Wake up!" she screamed. "Please, Matthew, wake up!". Her first thought was Gilbert. Gilbert could save him. But there was no use, for deep inside she knew it was useless. Matthew's hearbeat had left his body long ago.

Matthew Cuthbert was dead.

Marilla was still in the kitchen when the Baynard boy stormed into the house, trying his best to explain properly what had happened. Jerry was not related to the Cuthberts, not in blood, and he had not been adopted by them like Anne had. But they were like a second family to them.  "Mr. Cuthbert!" he just cried out, as he entered the kitchen startling Marilla. "He- he's, something's wrong!" His nerves seemed tohad taken over him. "Nous avons besoin d'aide!"