Hope

There was so much blood.

I may not have been able to see it, but the smell made me wretch; my brother was physically sick. You'd never think that someone so small and innocent would make such a mess. When the knife went missing from the kitchen, we were instantly on edge. The note in Braille and in English had few clues, but led us exactly to where she’d be.

I held her hand so tightly, I thought I’d break it as she took her final, rasping, breath. She was so cold; I covered her in my dressing gown and lifted her onto my lap.

For the first time in years, I cried. The moonlight must have glistened on my face as the tears flowed, but I could neither see, nor cared. Petals drifted onto us as the wind blew, rose petals in fact; her favourite flower.

We must have been like that for hours, Caritas barely able to look (he never was good with blood) and me with Faith lying across me dead while crying uncontrollably, before the police came. We were wet and cold; in our grief, we’d barely noticed the storm brewing, let alone it starting.

There are no longer there of us.

It is just me.

Caritas hung himself the night after the funeral. He said I had a job to do and he was afraid he’d only become another target if he stayed alive.

The pain burning inside me is almost too much to bear, but I will carry on my crusade; I must. No one should suffer like I am. I will use that pain and sculpt it into an indomitable weapon against the evils that lurk in the darkness.

It is the only way I’ll survive alone.

I am Hope. I cannot let Faith and Caritas be just a blip on the scanner of life. Their deaths mean so much more than that.



I AM HOPE!