Am I still dreaming?
I woke up but I'm in a fairyland, surrounded by beautiful things that I know can't be true. I thought I saw a smirk playing at your lips, but I know you have not smiled since the accident... I must have imagined it.
Do you remember Christmas?
Two months after the crash, we were sat by the tree, an opulent display: tinsel, ball-balls fairy lights- you used to love fairy lights- all embracing the ferns, lavish and whimsical. Mum and dad were admiring the tree. I was looking at you, but you were not there.
Playing tennis in the park, it's August now. You beat me; however I don't mind because it makes you beam and (sometimes) even laugh. I would give my world for that laugh.
Gracefully, you dance around your old bedroom admiring your Halloween costume in the mirror. We're attending a disco at the local club: your first social gathering since... no! Don't look like that! Forget I said that, please. It was not your fault, remember that. I love you... I (still) love you.
You take a drink, hastily, being careful not to spill any on your tutu. We should enter the costume contest! You have a good chance of winning first place, honestly! With your sleek wings shimmering like a collider scope beneath the disco ball, you make crystals seem dull.
As you dance jovially, despite losing the costume contest, people pay you empty compliments in passing that you accept, blindly.
'Lovely tiara,' they would say, or 'how nice to see you again'.
Never 'where have you been all this time?' or 'is it true that you killed your sister?'
No. Never those things.
I release the breath that I had been holding in for months, finally. I can breathe again, watching you giggle and tiptoe around the dance floor, a smile gracing your flushed face, like a little fairy princess. Calm. Calm at last.
Now, on the way home, I remember being here before. Perhaps in one of my dreams. Perhaps in one of my nightmares.
How many drinks did you have? It doesn't matter. Although you were- woah! Be careful, will you? That was close and anyway- hey, slow down, please. Wont you slow down a bit? Please slow down. I feel sick! Slow down! Stop! Please!
Brake! Brake! Brake!
Darkness.
Am I still dreaming?
I woke up, but I don't recognise anything. I can see you, but its like you are not there. You are crying. Where are you?
Needing answers, I stand. It feels as though I am treading on candyfloss, soft and delicate against my bare feet, so, I step lightly. Or do I float? It is difficult to tell.
Through the mist, I can make out a figure- a young girl- bounding towards me, grinning. Her face is mine, but her hair is short and choppy and brown.
As we hug, I peer over her sniffling shoulder. I think I see you smile at our reunion, knowing I will be safe and happy wherever I am now, but I turn and it is gone. I must have imagined it. It was never there. Imaginary, like a little fairy princess in the games we used to play. Why can't we play a new game? Let us play together and imagine we are children again and pretend we are carefree and excited and innocent and happy. I wish you could be happy.
But, you cannot be happy. I understand this now. I was foolish to wish overwise.
You will never again smirk because you beat me at tennis or laugh (oh, how I miss that laugh) or dance gracefully, pretending to be a little fairy princess.
Not with the knowledge that you killed both of your sisters.
And then yourself.
You never came up to Heaven.
Please, am I still dreaming?
