Frozen Hearts: Stuck Together

         People must think me a fool to stay with him. All of my problems, or at least all the major ones, are his fault. My ruined eyes, the death of our sister, the cold I feel. Why am I the one to suffer when he is the one who sins?

         Though he does have his curse. I suppose it causes him pain, for all he doesn’t show it. Yet that seems to complement his original nature rather than cause him suffering. He was always a cold one, so why should having a literal heart of ice as well as a figurative one bother him? It definitely bothers me; I get to follow the snowy bastard around all the time, much to the displeasure of my toes, fingers, nose, skin, eyes, and every other part of my body. Yet as far as I can tell, his curse has only made him crueler.

         I feel like I am making myself out to be a perfect little angel, which is absolutely absurd of me to do. I sit by as he steals, lies, cheats, murders, and worse. I am the one who keeps him alive to kill again and again, lending warmth and life where no other would, so the blood is on my hands as much as his. Together we have destroyed many things that deserved to survive. Yet we, creatures of darkness and deadly frost, still exist. Our existence is twisted, certainly, but the point is that we still exist. How many flowers have I felt wither in my grasp? How many souls have I watched my brother extinguish in my magic sight? Flowers, souls—both are simple and beautiful. I can’t even see the flowers now, yet my blindness only makes me love them more. Just because I can’t see their fair shapes and colors doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate their various scents and textures. As for souls—well, even the most twisted of souls is beautiful as it fades. It seems unfair that such lovely things are consigned to oblivion while my brother and I live on.

         I can say one thing in my favor: our continued survival is not entirely my fault. I will admit that I could never take my brother’s life (I’m rather soured on murder at this point), but I have tried to end my own life numerous times. He always finds me somehow. If I were less numb from this dratted cold, I might be irritated about it.

         My only other escape is to leave him. I wouldn’t be able to do that, even if he allowed me to. He’s my brother, and he’s all the family I have left (even if that is his fault, too). Besides, I literally couldn’t live without him. For all his cruelty, he does keep me fed and protected. He leads me across tricky slopes and frozen rivers, and (sometimes) catches me when I stumble. I wonder: would anyone else bother to lead a useless blind thing like me? Maybe if I were old, they would (old people can get away with having frail bodies), but I’m not. Young men like me should not be fragile and helpless. They should be strong and useful like my brother (not exactly like him, but you get my point). I doubt that the world has a place for me, other than the one I have now. So I stay by him, but let us be clear on this: I do not stay out of love. I don’t know the meaning of that word. I imagine that is partly his fault, too.

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