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Summary
She remembers everything; the sting of her mother's cruel words, the glint of a steel barrel hidden under a coat, the bitter taste of lies on her tongue. The girl remembers pressing cotton soft hands against torn flesh, tears running like they can convince the red slowly running out of the body back in. Like her grief can reshape the world. Like her grief could undo it.
But, more than that she remembers him. His callused hands, gently running through her hair, him, the flash of a needle stitching her dress when she'd ripped it in the berry bushes outside of their house. She remembers him, and she thinks of love. Elodie Moreau barely remembers much good, memories wrought only screams and terror and pain. But she remembers her brother. She misses him, has missed him for years, with an ache she feels in her soul.
Elodie is tired of only having bad things to remember. Her brother used to tell her as a child that good things come to those who wait. That her patience would be worth it. Elodie has waited for her entire life. But if her years of waiting and bleeding for it have taught her anything, its that if she wants to be happy, she needs to find it herself. And that starts with finding her brother.