• Chapter 2
    Birthday
    Old memories rushed into me when I passed the entrance gate, entering the forest that I had walked through so many times already. Before my brother disappeared 3 years ago, he would speak to me with such gentle words as we strolled through this pathway every morning. I assumed he had ran away on my 13th birthday and that night was my worst nightmare, plunked in pain and sorrows.
    That day started out dark and rainy. The streets that was once jammed had been deserted. My brother would smash my door open holding a small chocolate cake in his hand with a wide grin on his face.
    “Happy birthday, little sis!” he said loudly and merrily, striding to the edge of my bed. “Good morning, Snow, time to eat breakfast.”
    “Thank you,” I replied, rubbing my eyes. “You know you don’t have to call me by my nickname on my birthday, Michael,” I insisted, stretching my arms out to give my brother a big hug. He sat on the side my bed, gazing at me with his charming expression as I consumed my delicious cake.
    “Well then, Morana, shall we go to the kitchen to prepare a real breakfast for you?” he asked, using his English accent that made my giggled. He kneeled down for me to put my arms around his neck and he gave me a piggy-back ride to the kitchen. His long black hair was soft like feathers crawling on my face as he moved through the hallway. He sat me down on the cold wooden chair in the center of the dining table. “Today we are having Gingerbread Waffles with a glass of milk,” he said, as if he was a butler. I was taking the pleasure in every moment of his act. To be honest, Michael has a great sense of humor only on special occasion, so I’m not used to his funny side yet. A hot plate of the sweet smell of ginger with cinnamon toast landed in front of me. Just by looking at it made me drooled.
    Michael beamed at me and patted my head as I took my first bite into the tasty, warm waffle. “It’s awesome!” I exclaimed with a mouth full. “Thank you, Michael.”
    “It’s no problem, little sis. I’m glad you can enjoy it.”
    His voice seems a little off, but I can’t stop thinking how good this meal is. I finished every last bit of my delicious waffles and I mean literally, I licked the plate clean. My brother laughed at how I eat like a little pig that hasn’t been fed for days. I smiled with crumbs stuck between my teeth and Michael almost fell off his chair. I laughed with him until I’m completely out of breath. “Your sense of humor haven’t change, little sis,” he chuckled.
    “You know I’m 13 now. So starting from today, would you please stop calling me ‘little’,” I said politely and sweetly as possible. Michael stood from his chair, standing right in front of me, and laid his palm on my head. Through his black rigid bangs, his eyes seem cold for a second. My brother may appear to be a warmhearted gentleman, but he is very…crazy.
    On my last birthday, when my brother came home from work, he suddenly goes berserk. He staggered towards the dining table and violently shoved a glass vase, making it crashing to the ground, shattering it. I was in my room studying hard for upcoming exams at the time, until I heard glass breaking from the kitchen. I ran hastily into the room, spotted Michael, and I was in shock to witness my own brother losing his mind for the first time. “What’s wrong?” I asked, looking worried and terrified. I could see his dark brown eyes, full of madness. I took one step closer to the table so I can reach him. Gently, I placed my hand on his shoulders and calmly as I could, I asked “Tell me what’s wrong.”
    “No,” he replied. I could hear him breathing heavily through his mouth.
    “Tell me what’s wrong, please.”
    “Leave me alone.”
    “Michael, tell your sister what’s wrong.”
    “Shut up!” he yelled and began to pound on the table harshly. I grabbed his arms to stop this chaos but he used the back of his hand and slapped across my face, leaving a bright red mark. “Just shut up and leave me alone!” he roared. I was scared. I wanted to run away, far away from my brother. No, I can’t let him live this down, I thought. I grabbed both of arms again and locked it in my fingers, forcing him to look at me with rage. “Calm down!” I hollered loud and clear so Michael could hear me over this mess. He screamed, escaping from my lock, he thrust me down, forcing me to land on my back over the pile of glass shards. Sharp pain poked into my flesh as I tried to stand back up. I didn’t believe this was happening. I was denying all of it. Michael stared at me with the same cold eyes, before he fell to his knees, crying. He cupped his hand on the back of head, holding me close to him. I was still traumatizing about the whole scene. He held me tight until let go of me from his embrace and looked at me with eyes that were teary and concern. “Morana, I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” he sobbed. That was his last words before I fainted.
    I snapped out of my flashback and back into my 13th birthday memory. Michael’s sweaty hand was still on my head and he smiled with his full white teeth, rubbing my head, messing up my hair. “Sorry, little sis, but you’ll always be my little sister no matter what,” he said, grinning as I groaned. His cheesy talks always get the best of me, especially when he is chatting about me and him as siblings. Moments later, Michael was prepared and head off for work. Work was important, mostly because our parents had abandoned us so this is our only way to put food on the table.
    Michael is 18, just graduated from high school. His grades are impressive and so he got a well-paid job instead of going to college. I really love my brother for putting so much effort in every little thing. To me, he is a very special person in my life. He’s handsome and pleasant. Everywhere we go the young ladies constantly fall for him. The striking black layered hair of his that flows over his marvelous eyes, school girls and young women would faint as he walks by. I resembled my brother greatly. Our eyes are a dark shade of brown covered by our bangs and black layered hair runs in the family I guess.
    I was in my cozy room, drawing a colorful thank-you card for my brother. I was very focus into my wordings as the phone rang and stunned me. I picked up the phone and a voice called out. “Hello? Is this Snow?” asked a man. That voice belongs to one of my brother’s friends, William. He is Michael’s assistance in technology engineering and they’re close friends. William often looks after me when I was home alone in my tender years while my brother was still in high school and work all at once. “Hello?” William asked again impatiently from the receiver. “Snow, this is important and I need you to listen.”
    “Sorry, I was spacing out. What’s so important?”
    “Your brother had recently passed out during work. He just arrived at a near hospital. Can you to come to the company’s front entrance so I can drive you there? You must be worried…Are you listening?”
    Nothing came out of mouth. I was too dumbfounded and terrified. What the hell happened, I thought. I tried to get the words out but it’s like there’s a rock stuck in my throat. “I’m coming. Just park the car outside,” I said briskly into the receiver and hung up. Hastily, I slid into my converse, long black coat, and wrapped a wool scarf on the back of my neck. I bashed out of the door like every morning and paused. The mob of people that jammed the road each dawn will always rest at night. It’s usually safe outside if you’re not alone in this ghost town. Every so often, Michael would scold me for going outside without his company. After that, I began to carry a silver pocket knife and a pistol with me every time when I’m alone. The pocket knife was mine to begin with and the gun used to belong to my brother. In Phantom, kids above the age 10 can use weapons for self-defense outside their personal living area. I locked my front door and observed the streets carefully. You’ll never know when a criminal might surprise attack you.
    My brother’s work office isn’t far a walk, just a few houses down the road. I sprinted down the lane, eyeing at my shadow. I briefly remember ordering my brother to eat his breakfast before he head off to work. That b*****d, he didn’t listen to a word I said, I though utterly. I spotted a black vehicle coming alive at the front gate of the company’s building. William stepped out and opened the backseat door. “Tell me everything on our way there,” I said and he nodded. I stepped in and slammed the door shut as I sat on the soft leather seat. William explained my brother had been acting strange this morning. “His face was pale and he continually spaced out as he does his job,” he described. “After he skipped lunch and went back to his shift again, he blacked out.” Every word from his mouth hit my ears with pain. My heart tightened, fighting back the tears as I search for hope in my feelings, but I can’t find it. The buzz of my brother fainting and being transferred to a hospital sounded more like my brother died and was being buried in the cold earth. I clenched my fist, viewing out the window studying the flickering street lights. The rest of the trip was in silence up to when we reached our destination.
    The hospital was like the size of an average high school building, just really wide and two stories high. William was going to take a smoke so I went ahead. As soon as I entered, the smell of alcohol and blood stuffed my nose. The disturbance of the stench disgusted me, making me avoid breathing through my nostril. I examined the hallways and it was entirely vacant. As I turned around, a strange nurse popped into my sight and almost gave me a heart attack. But I swear no life was here. Well at least not in this hallway, plus I didn’t hear any footsteps. “May I help you?” requested the strange woman. The lady looks like she’s in her early twenties. She had blood red lip stick and wore a long white nurse-like dress similar to the ones in those old movies. She had brunet hair, pinned at the rear of her head. Her name tag displayed NARA SINCLAIR in black and white. She stopped and examined me from head to toe carefully. “Oh wait! You must be Michael’s little sister, Morana Serenity. You two look so much alike!”
    My eyes widened for a bit. No stranger had ever stated my full name directly at me before with a nice smile, affecting me to believe that the brunet had a suspicious nature. “Uh yea, thanks. Can you tell me were Michael’s room is?” I probed impatiently. Nara pointed down the longest hall. “Take that path and you’ll see the stairs. Go to the second floor and turn to your right. Your brother’s room is A202,” instructed the nurse. I inspected the hall that the nurse pointed out. The corner was dimmed, few lights were unsteady, and not a living thing was in that passageway. I turned my gazed for the nurse to thank her but she wasn’t in my view. No sound of her high heels clacking against the floor, no strawberry scent from her perfume, no trace, nothing. I started for the hall, and the gory smell grew stronger as I reached the dusky stairway. The aroma was too intense it gave me a headache. Positioning my hand on the icy metal railing, I took a small number of steps upward. What the hell happened to the elevator? I thought curiously. Nara didn’t mention it but I assumed it was out of order. The quicker I moved the horrible scent reduced as I fumbled to the second floor. Thank goodness for fresh air up here! I rushed along hall, but something questioned me. This whole sanatorium is desolated. Not a single employee is behind the desk, no patients in healing rooms either.
    I went back on concentrating on Michael. Pacing to his room, my eyes caught the sign outside his doorway. In print, it stated A202: MICHAELIS SERENITY in bold black words. My heart was racing, and sweat dripped from my temple. I couldn’t wait any longer. I opened the door inaudibly, in case if Michael was napping. Room temperature was bitter and the setting was dull. My brother, rested flat on his back on the hospital bed, looking half dead. His black eyes were opened staring at the ceiling and an IV drop pierced into his pale paper wrist. My legs were numbed but they stride to his side on their own.
    “Hey, Morana,” he whispered weakly, slightly twisting his head on the supple pillow to see my expression. Without seeing him, I pulled a chair from the dusty corner closer to him. Finally I looked at him, gazing at his untidy bangs. A relief sigh escaped my mouth and I choked. I tried to prevent myself from crying, but it hurts to hold it in. My chest tightened as a stone was stuck in my throat. “Morana, it’s okay to cry,” Michael said gently. His voice, his words, he’s too kind, and this is why he’ll always get hurt more than me. I burst into tears, dug my face into his arm, and gripped his cotton shirt under the thin coated blankets. I loved him, missed him, and worried about him. My brother, my only brother, could hurt himself so much for me. When I was trampled by others’ words, Michael would be there for me, to save me. I was a cold little girl who refused to shed a tear in front of individuals and that’s how I earned the nickname, Snow. The society despised me because of my horror birth name. Morana, a name of a goddess who brings death upon life. Everywhere I went, store clerks, elders, and families would look down on me, avoiding me and Michael because we’re orphans. I hated everyone, except my brother, but I mostly loathed myself, for being so useless. Causing trouble for those who I cared, turning their backs on me, leaving me behind. I hated it. I hated being rejected since the start, hated being lonely, and mainly I couldn’t bear hatred. Mixed feelings swirled in my heart constantly.
    Michael raked my hair with his boney fingers as I held his other hand. The warmth of his hand heated my palm and calmed me a bit. My throat loosened, sitting back up straight, I scrubbed the dry tears away making my skin pinkish. Michael sat up too, back against the pillow alongside the wall. He brushed through my hair like old times, sliding his hand smoothly down my moist blushing cheek. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m sorry, Morana.”
    “Stop apologizi—,” I said but he cut me off by taking my lips onto his. My brain was like a bowl mixed with unknown ingredients. It was not confusion or awkwardness that I couldn’t search, but something else. Kissing each other was natural for us. Incest was my brother’s idea when we very little. We didn’t have parents and we were hated, so we used this method to comfort ourselves when we’re in the state of depression, but we seldom to do that. Me and Michael had been accustomed to the comforting, we’re not embarrassed because I’m not his pure blood sister, we both had the same mother but different father. In addition, I’d known Michael starting since I was eight.
    I ignored the sensation as my brother’s dry lips departed. It was alright, I guessed. Desperation and greed ended my hunger and I drifted off in my brother’s arms, for now. I’m a heavy sleeper when I know that Michael is right by my side because he’ll protect me from my unwanted nightmares. In my dream, Michael went back to health again and everything was normal. I would wait outside a convenient store, patient with a dash of jealousy as I spied on the store clerk flirting with Michael. Her childish red beanie covered almost half her face. She beamed at my brother exposing her glossy bleached teeth. I urged to just run in there and yell, “******** off, b***h!” and drag my brother home. I knew I would get a long lecture from him so I just continued to watch over them. The suspicious lady peeled off her beanie, letting her hair escape and flying down her slimmed back. The clerk revealed herself as Nara Sinclair. WTF, I though, so infuriated that I could cuss her out at any moment. Soon, I woke up, placed in my brother’s arms surrounded by heating smoke. This is the worse birthday ever, I thought, immaturely.