The Bitter Wind

That first winter morning, when everything went to hell, is still vivid in my mind. It was only cold enough to bite when the wind blew, but the wind blew and blew and blew. I remember her being so content, so normal and ready for life. She was perky, the Texas autumn had made her soft, unprepared for when the bitter winter winds rolled in.

She was so alone.

When I first walked outside, and felt the bitter wind, I shivered. It was more than a simple shiver, it was a shiver for the deaths of Napoleans men marching into the bitter Russian cold, for all those lost and trapped in arctic regions, only to die alone and frozen, as the cold seeped in and reached their bones. It was the first time I shivered this winter, and I knew it wouldn't be my last. I tried to push the cold out of my mind, focus on the warmth in the soles in my feet, but it was useless. I shivered again.

This time, I shivered for her.

A lump formed in my throat, as if I was anxious or nervous about something. I knew that she would come back. I knew that she would return, but... I knew that she wouldn't be the same again. I knew that the memories would still be there and that everytime we touched, she would stiffen remembering that bitter winter. I knew that when we sang along to the radio, she would only mouth the words with her mind still focusing on the bitter winter. I knew that everytime we kissed, I wouldn't feel warmth beneath her skin but only the winds of a past bitter winter. It wouldn't be the same.

I wouldn't be able to live with her like this, but I had no one else.

She was attached to me. She was more to me than just a friend, she was my life. I knew that after this, she would only turn to me, and even though she would never be the same, I couldn't let her go. If I did, she wouldn't be able to live, wouldn't be able to recover. I was her only hope for a life, her only hope for happiness. As my years grow, I will grow to hate her more and more, but she will only see the outside of me. She will only see the content supporting man.

She will never see how I truly feel.

I marched on. The wind was blowing harder now, I could no longer find any heat in my body to focus on. I could only think about other things. I tried to put this all out of my mind. I tried to put her, the cold, even the feeling of my cracking lips, I tried to put it all behind me, like a dropped letter too unimportant for me to stop and pick up. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that when I walked back home the same route, that letter would still be there, untouched by the very wind that seeps in my skin. It would be right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, waiting for me, and this time, I would have to pick it up.

The winter ended, and I saw her for the first time again.

She fell in my arms. She was sobbing, apologizing, stating every mistake she's ever made, begging for me to forgive her. I had no choice, I sat there and stroked her hair and told her that everything was alright. I knew that now was when my life would end. I would have to act as a baby sitter, watching her, being her only support. It would be torture, giving up my life for hers, but I would have to do it, because I knew that all this was my fault.

The next winter came.

The memories came back. It had only been a year, but she thought that she could disregard her past. I walked with her now, I protected her from the cold. My arm around hers, trying to keep her warm, I could feel her shiver. It was her first winter shiver, and I knew that she did not shiver for any lives lost in the cold, but that she shivered for me.

She looked into my eyes and saw my true feelings. In that instant she saw all that she had done to me, all that she had forced my life to become. We kept walking in silence. That night, she didn't come home.

It's been 2 weeks since I've last seen her, and I know that I'll never see her again.