Rose and Ivy Potter

The Beginning: Loss

Eight-year-old identical twins played on a playground, with only their eleven-year-old brother watching them. The sun was just setting, and they were the only children left on the playground. A game of tag was happening when a familiar figure appeared at the gate, but no one rushed to her. No one wanted to.
Danny knew what it had to mean. The woman would never have come if something wasn't wrong.
But she stood there, and called out to the three siblings.
"Daniel, Rose, Ivy," her British accent echoed across the lonely playground. "You best come inside now, and say goodbye to your mummy."
Danny didn't want to say goodbye. He didn't want the twins to say goodbye. And yet, somehow he managed to leap to his left, and get tagged by typically-slow Rose.
"I'm it!" He called with a forced laugh. Come and get me. He said it without words, and soon was running away from the red headed girls.
He ran out of the gated ground, and towards their home. In the front door, up the steps, right up to the master bedroom. He stopped, and shushed the twins. "Be quiet!"
"Danny, what's going to happen to Mumma? Is she going to be ok?" Ivy's voice was heard, and Danny looked down to the ground.
"I don't know, Ivy."
He knocked thrice on the door.
"Come in, darlings," a woman's voice answered. Six hands pushed the door open, and six feet stepped into the room. Danny grasped his sisters' hands. "Come closer, now." Julia was unrecognizable to Danny. Once full of life, she was nearly completely deprived of it now. Danny might have been in denial about that, and Ivy may not have known what was happening, but Rose knew. And Rose wasn't one to withhold information. She stepped forward, but held on to Danny.
"How much longer until you die, Mumma?" Rose didn't cry a single tear as she asked.
"Not long enough, my Rose," she replied with a weak smile, "Come closer, darlings."
Danny couldn't move his feet. He tried, but just couldn't. But when both pairs of feet on either side of him moved, he miraculously managed to as well.
She spoke to the twins first.
"Miracles, miracles, you stay safe. You stay beautiful. God, help you. You look so much like me. So much like your Mumma. Love you. I loved you." She was no longer smiling. She looked delirious. Scary. No, she looked insanely terrifying. Danny would not let his sisters be subject to her craziness. He refused.
And so, he pulled them back from Julia, and knelt at her bedside.
"Mumma, don't do it. Don't die. Please, Mummy." He began to cry, which led to the twins sobbing behind him.
"Daniel, care for yourself, and only you. Don't for the others. Daniel, I'm so sorry. So sorry."
"No, Mumma! You can't die! What will I do about Daddy? Mumma, no!" Danny was sobbing uncontrollably.
The nurse had appeared in the door, finally having arrived back from the playground. "Children, you must go now. Let your mummy be." Her usually disdainful face currently held an almost...pitiful look. Danny hated pity.
He held onto the twins' hands like he was never going to let go. He told himself he was never, ever going to let go.
~~~~
Two weeks after Julia Anne Wilson's funeral, her son celebrated his twelfth birthday.
Only two guests attended, and both were his sisters. Of course, they were the only ones invited.
Eight-year-olds can be very tricky, you know. Twins the most mischievous of all.
And so, on Friday, November 13, 1992, Danny Wilson returned home to find his two little sisters (who had skipped school for the first time that day), one burnt chocolate cake, and a sign the read Happy Birthday Danny!!.
A dazed sort of smile stretched across Danny's face, and he wrapped them in tight hug. I love you. He didn't need to say it for them to know.
They spent the afternoon eating the cake.
Maybe they should've used a fork. Or a plate. Maybe they should've been more careful, and not gotten crumbs all over the floor.
Or maybe Jack shouldn't have been drinking.
But either way, he returned late that night, long after the twins were in bed.
Danny always liked to stay up late.
What kid doesn't?
~~~~
Ivy heard the screaming first, from her little bed. She was a light sleeper. She crawled out of her bright purple sheets, and hugged her teddy bear. She crossed the room, and shook Rose awake.
"What is it, Ivy?"
"Rosie, listen." Rose listened, and leaped out of bed.
"What is that?"
"I don't know." They grasped hands, and walked down the stairs quietly.
At first, they didn't know what they were looking at.
Jack stood, looking much taller than the five-foot-nine he was. Much meaner, too.
He stood, with a belt in his hand, face red with anger, in front of Daniel.
Daniel looked like he could barely stand. His shirt was in shreds, and his chest bloody. He was backed up against a wall, and it was his screams that had woken Ivy.
If eight-year-olds were brave, maybe the twins would have tried to step in front of Jack.
Would've tried to stop him.
But eight-year-olds are kids, and kids who don't know what they need to do. And so, Rose and Ivy crouched at the end of the stairs, silent tears running down their faces as they heard their brother scream.
~~~~
All battles end, and Jack was gone again by midnight. Drinking, no doubt.
The twins had put all of the Neosporin and bandaids they could find on Daniel. All of that was in the house, or so they thought.
But the next time Danny was hurt, they looked again for bandaids and medicine, and it was like the stocks had been replenished.
The twins didn't understand it, or maybe didn't notice, but Danny knew.
Danny always knew.