Leah sat in the living room, her body slumped, held together only by the two hands covering her face.
She knows.
She isn't sad.
In fact, she's relieved.
In fact... she's happy.
Under those hands was the face of a woman who had lived only for her brother. She was smiling, even as her eyes betrayed the burial ground inside her. Emotions she thought she'd sealed away long ago.
The unearthing wasn't simple, not by any means.
But I kept digging.
And digging.
I shoveled and shoveled, clawing at that grave she had tried so desperately to keep closed.
It was my job, after all.
It had always been my job...
When I first came to this mansion, after my parents sold me off like the object I was, I expected to be treated like one.
It would have been easier that way.
Instead, someone took my hand.
A girl with long, straight hair that flowed like her life. She didn't want her hair to slump, so she ran with the wind.
Maybe she believed that if she created the wind, her hair would never fall.
She underestimated herself.
Day by day, she grew wearier, her steps slowing, her breath shortening. But she never let go of the hand she had taken the day she first decided to run.
Of course, I wasn't the only one.
Others tried to match her wind.
But they couldn't.
Only I could.
That's why she'll never leave me.
I sat beside her and gently lifted her head.
Her eyes were red from crying, but they still sparkled with tears. Her face was flushed, touched by that soft, rosy tint.
A shiver ran down my spine.
She leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed, dark lashes hiding the red.
I leaned in, just to see her face a little better.
Haa...
I wish you were mine.