kaytmeri
|• My baby sister •|

"What on earth were you thinking, woman?" He yelled at the top of his lungs. This was infuriating — did she have no heart or in this case, a brain?

"I was just trying to k-knock her down. You know, umm, to make sure we weren't in d-danger or she didn't try to k-kill us, or anything, you know." She was stuttering.

When her brother got angry, he was out of control. She feared she was going to be in a worse condition than the girl lying on the ground, bleeding to death.

"What the hell!" He could almost feel the heat in his head, fuelling his temper. "Do you have any idea what you've done? She could be dead for all we know. You're a murderer! My sister is a murderer! What if killing one human being makes you want to kill another?" His anger slowly faded and hysteria took over, "Will I be your next victim?"

Emma started laughing wildly, clutching her stomach as it began to ache.

"And now you even have the audacity to laugh? You really are a psychopath!" He gaped at her, getting furious once again.

She inhaled a deep breath, she had to calm him down before someone, or something heard them.

"Look at me, Lincoln. Panicking won't help the fact that she's injured. Besides, she's not dead."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Are you really that stupid? Can't you see the rise and fall of her chest? I can't believe you're my older brother." She scoffed.

He could feel heat rush up his cheeks, he had to stop embarrassing himself like that — he was a genius and no one could argue with that but in dire circumstances he had a tendency to lose his sanity.

"Okay, Emma. What do we do now?" He preferred that his sister would take charge, instead of him messing things up.

"First of all, I'm going to go home to grab some cleaning supplies and things to dress her wound. You take her to the evergreen forest near the pungent smelling plants to overshadow the scent of blood." Emma barked her orders, which was something she enjoyed doing.

"Why me?" Lincoln whined.

"Because you're older and stronger. Now get to work." Emma yelled back over her shoulders as she ventured into the forest.

Climbing uphill with a teenage girl on your back was a lot of work — Lincoln breathed laboriously as he reached the top of the hill. He stood there mesmerized by the view.

Lincoln murmured rhetorically under his breath, "Why are women so heavy?"

After reaching the peak Emma and Lincoln continued to trek downhill and into the evergreen forest. Lincoln hated the makeshift name Emma had suggested for the forest, and as annoying she was, she was his world. He would be all alone without his sister.

"C'mon, you sloth!" Emma started running towards the shelter.

"I. Am. Not. A. Sloth." Lincoln spoke through gritted teeth, that nickname was atrocious. He would absolutely not tolerate it, "If I hear you utter that one more time, I swear you will regret it."

"You wouldn't dare." Emma held his gaze with so much intensity, she could almost feel the goose bumps running up his arms as her lips curled upwards into a menacing grin.

"You're evil." Lincoln said with venom.

"I know, I know. What took you so long to learn that?" Emma chuckled lightly and headed in through the broken branches, "Put her down here."

Lincoln obeyed yet his annoyance was utterly visible on his face. He stared intently at the girl on the ground. She had luscious, cascading, black hair that reminded him of the starless midnight sky. It seemed like he could lose himself in her tangled, bloody hair. Her features were sharp and elegant — who said people aren't born perfect? Lincoln couldn't take his eyes off her, he could hear his heart ticking; about to explode and he wasn't even sure why.

Her cheeks were tinted red from the cold, but she looked peaceful, and as much as Lincoln hated to mention it; she was beautiful. Her long, curled lashes made him wonder what colour her eyes were, maybe blue; like waves in the sea that could drown him away — or maybe impenetrable black eyes that would cave him and assure him safety. Or maybe violet, like Emma's but different; a shade of violet that would lull him to sleep and never leave him.

"Lincoln. Haven't I taught you that it's rude to stare?" Emma screamed in his ear.

Lincoln broke out of his trance; furious, "What is wrong with you? My poor ear drums are crying." Lincoln rubbed his ears, trying to heal his sensitive hearing.

"What's so fascinating about this girl that's turned you into a zombie, you haven't even tried to kill me yet."

"Are you insisting upon your death now?" Lincoln glared at Emma and then glanced back at the girl.

"No, but—" Emma began but was cut off.

Her eyes fluttered open and all Lincoln could do was stare. He was wrong, her eyes were a vibrant shade of emerald green that held wisdom and beauty. They were enough to enchant him away, somewhere dream-like, away from all his misery. Her eyes spoke the truth and for a moment he saw fear in them which made his insides churn.

"I'm Lincoln." He whispered, he feared anything louder would make her panic.

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching for assurance. Why did he seem so familiar to her?

"I'm Lyra..." Her eyes rolled up and closed shut again.

"Oh no, she's losing too much blood!" Emma ran back inside frantically, with Lincoln at her heels.

I can't lose you again

—

Hope you guys like the chapter.
Do you think the two know each other? If they do why doesn't Lincoln remember anything? What is happening?
Hint: I don't know myself. 🤔