Snowfall *EDITING*

CHAPTER FOUR

When I was eight years old, my mother asked me if I liked anyone in my class, which consisted of 31 students that all were afraid of me, and not just because of my toothless grin. I had shook my head and screamed at her in plain embarrassment, but she just laughed and patted my head. Finally after 10 minutes of my squeaky voice echoing through the house like a it was a cave and I was a tourist testing out the echos, I looked her in the eye. 

 “I like this one boy, but he will never like me,” I finally admitted, my little eyes looking up at my mother's, wondering why my own eyes never shone with that much love. She took my tiny hand in the palm of hers and smiled, her smile brightening up the room like a candle flame shimmering in the night. 

 “I’m sure he likes you too, sweetie.”

 “No he doesn’t, he likes this pretty little girl in his class. She’s so nice, but sometimes she's mean to me because the boy I like spends a lot of time with me and she likes him too!” I exclaimed, water gathering in my eyes as I starred up at my mother. 

 “No one in the world is prettier than you though.” My mother said, “I promise.” 

 “But he doesn’t like me, no matter how pretty I am.” 

 “I think he does like you, just wait, he’ll take your breath away one day.” 

 I think my mom knew who I liked, it was pretty obvious, and it was to almost every kid that attend our school. My mom knew he would never go for me though, I was like his little sister and I’m sure he wasn’t into incest. I guess she just didn't want me to lose all hope yet, because the one thing my mother never told me but should have, was that once you lose your sense of hope, it's a bloody battle to get it back.

 My mother never told me a lie though, it was true, the boy I liked did take my breath away. Every day he did. When he smiled at me before school started and he darted off to his class, or when his laughter roared throughout the wood and nails that kept our treehouse in the sky. Maybe it was when he would get all angry when the kids sent me looks and teased me with little effort. I can’t remember every moment, because there were countless ones. August drowned me in the little things he did.

 But I think this was the first time I couldn’t breath, he had literally left me stunned, gasping for air. 

 “August?” I hollered at the boy, who looked at me with surprise. 

 “What the hell is she doing here?” He turned to his mother and crossed his arms over his defined chest, confidence radiating off of him. He didn't look the same, he was taller, had more muscle, and more scars. There was one poking out of his sleeve.

 “She lives her, hun..” Sara looked at her son like he was a piece of glass and the smallest amount of pressure would shatter him. I never thought August would be able to shatter, but Sara must know something i don't.

 “Excuse me?” He sneered, and I felt bad for Sara. August could be toxic when he was mad, he could slip into your viens and slowly kill you and you wouldn't even know.

“Some things have happened when you were gone.” Was all she said, looking at me and sending me a smile that made warmth go shooting through my veins unexpectedly. She was so good, so innocenly good it made me sad somehow, because she had gotten stuck with me

 “What about her parents? Why the hell isn’t she living with them?” He asked, his eyes narrowing into two slits like a cats. But something within him clicked suddenly, as if he knew he had slipped up just as the words left his lips.

I don’t know what hit me, if it was the tone he had used, or the mere mention of my dead parents, but I felt a wave of furry spread over me. I rarely ever got mad at August, even though he did a lot to anger me, but it was so hard to get mad at him. His eyes would get big, and he would grin like the world was here for his own taking. And I could never get my angery words past my lips, they just died. But not today.