A gentle stream ran past her feet,

A tear, a slip, down past her cheek. 

A wind- careful, gliding, soaring, 

Only to collapse, crashing and burning. 

That summer seemed to last forever, the hours dragged into days, days into weeks, weeks into months.  The warm breezes and occasional sparkling rain danced upon the canvas that was the deep, rich blue sky, effervescent.  The trees and grass glistened in the heavenly sunlight and children ran and played in their youth as adults chatted fondly on their porches, sipping sweet, sweet lemonade. 

It was picturesque, almost unreal.   The small town of Lorana had never seen such a saccharine summer in years proving just to be a cruel twist of irony for its inhabitants.

Calypso placed her toes gently in the river, small splashes erupting from the stream as she bathed in the warmth of the sun and the crisp sound of the breeze.   Calypso’s ash brown hair caressed her shoulders, her amber eyes glowing to gold. Her face was innocent, satisfied, gentle, relaxed, beautiful despite the bleeding cuts decorating her cheeks, arms, and legs. She seemed to be thinking of nothing, having gravitated to this spot with nothing but the memory of her feet only to stare in contentedness, focusing on simply what was in front of her.   Listening to the soothing sounds of the stream, spattering over rocks, she laid to rest on the grass and soon fell into a deep slumber. 

“You’re insane!”  His voice cracked with desperation and he swung a glass bottle, now holding it up as a form of defense.  The glass crashed into her arms and legs, some even going to her face. 

Blood boiled and hot anger rattled her bones as the figure charged forwards, slicing the large knife in the air, easily knocking the bottle away. 

Horror caused the man’s feet to shake even as he tried to press them into the ground with all of his might.

It was the barn where they had grown up, where they had played, danced, sang, matured.  Innocence seemed like the furthest thing from the truth. 

“You don’t want to do this!  You don’t want to do this!” It was a mantra, repeating in her head as it was the only thing he said. 

Her heartbeat sped up and with each quick and painful beat, she grew closer, closer, closer...slice.

Agamedes screamed in agony, falling below a crate as drops of blood slid profusely out of his right arm as he clutched the wound.

It was satisfaction, a pleasure run so deep; it was revenge, it was vengeance, it was what needed to be done.  

A storm began outside, thunder booming as lightning crackled outside the broken window.  The light shone on the figures inside.

He was dead, gone, ripped away.  Wounds coated his entire body creating a sickening, sadistic scene for a psychopath.  

She stepped away, the wet knife clattering to the ground as the whole room began to reek with the repulsive smell of death.  Of death. 

Calypso awoke with a gasp, her body shooting upwards as she struggled to suck in a full breath.  The scene in front of her mocked her as the vivid dream pounded through her mind and she squeezed her eyes with her fists, shaking her head.  

An odd feeling soared through her chest, causing that biting feel that she had to do something.  Anything. 

The person...on the floor...bleeding...it was her brother.

Agamedes.  She stood, terror running so deep she could hardly think until she was running, sprinting, leaping back down the trail where she came, this time with a purpose. 

She had to make sure he was okay, whoever could do such a thing was a monster.  A terrible, filthy, poor excuse of a human being. 

Her feet stung as she ran from the rocks and sticks and so did her cuts.  Memories, precious memories she cradled deep in her skewered heart, ran with her, away from a place of calm, where the memories came from. 

They played.  The wind was gentle, the trees swaying in a sweet melody from the lyrical chirps of the birds as the river splashed playfully. 

They worked.  They fed the pigs, brushed the horses, milked the cows as the neighborhood children played in the green grass that was not just theirs. 

They smiled.  They giggled, laughed, for they were inseparable.  Their bond was rich, filled with secrets and jokes and dreams.

They found themselves.  Even into their teen years, they shared everything, selective open books.  For their love was understanding, always, when the truth was unveiled. For Agamdes knew things of Calypso no one else did.

They found her.  Her eyes were the lightest blue and her cheeks were tainted the prettiest pink.  Her smile was dazzling, her kind words and soft touches always sent butterflies and the spread of warmth.  

They left her.  They promised. They swore.   Their bond was unbreakable, no one could change that.  Not even sweet Bailey’s comforting hugs.

She was the only one who could hurt him.  But it would never be her, never, ever. No, how could she ever?  Calypso was innocent, pure, gleaming morality wherever she went. She could never be guilty.

Her mind had this border, her appearance too.  She could never accept someone hurting the person she loved. 

Calypso was testing so much of herself as she came to the barn, where she suspected he would be. 

And oh, he was.  Bailey, too, Agamedes’s future wife, oh how it made her blood boil.   Tears cascaded down her parents’ faces, a crowd of people mumbling in disturbed whispers as they stood around the barn. 

She stepped further and further, ignoring her parents’ yells.   Agamedes’ body lay warped, disfigured. Shock refused to come, to paralyze her to her knees.

Calypso knew all along as she stood in the warm breeze, blood dripping off her cheek, for love fueled it all and self-preservation would protect it.  But secrets cannot be hidden forever. Never.