CHAPTER X

The Worst Day

in which everything shatters into million pieces

One of the worst days in Anne's life came two weeks after Christmas. It was just the beggining of the new year, but it had already been the worst day in Anne's year. Probably one of the worst days in her whole life.

She woke up with her usual energy. It was a beautiful, shiny Tuesday morning and Avonlea was covered in the thickest snow she had ever seen. Maybe it was the prospect of the new year, new adventures, new possibilities, but Anne felt ecstatic. Or maybe, just maybe, it had to do with the fact that she had agreed to visit Gilbert Blythe that same day after school. "I've found another box of old books in the attic and I thought that maybe you wanted to go over them?" he had told her, with his usual polite smile yet a no-longer nonchalant attitude, since he always seemed to be nervous or agitated about something.

Trying to shake the image of Gilbert Blythe's head covered in snow off her head, she made her way downstairs, jumping, dancing and humming some unknown melody. "Good morning, Marilla!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "Oh, isn't it beyond magnificient? Avonlea looks like a scenario straight out a fairytale!" she danced around the kitchen as the woman bit back a smile. "Anne Shirley-Cuthbert!" Marilla looked at her, pointing at her with a wooden spoon. "Will you sit down and eat your breakfast? God, child, this is the third year you've seen the snow!"

"Oh, but Marilla!" the girl pouted, pulling out the chair in which she had sat for over those three years. "It looks just as divine and it feels twice as breathtaking as the very first time!". Marilla shooked her head as she softly rolled her eyes.

"Where's Matthew?" Anne asked, chewing her breakfast. "I believe he's in the barn" her adoptive mother replied, sipping her tea as she looked out the window. "Make sure you tell him to come back to the house before you leave for school, alright, child?"

The girl finished her breakfast and got dressed as quickly as she could. She hoped she could enjoy Matthew and Belle's company for a few minutes before getting to school, so she kissed Marilla on the cheek and left the house, walking towards the barn, hoping she could tell Matthew about the lovely snow. He was, for sure, a kindred spirit, and understood her in so many levels, or at least, he tried to. Matthew Cuthbert was one of the few people that allowed Anne to ramble, to daydream outloud and to talk non-sense for hours -- she could really be herself with Matthew, since the very first day they met in that train station. And then he called her "her daughter". She smiled widely at the memory as she walked into the barn.

"Good morning, my dearest Matthew!"

Anne did not see him at first. She scanned the almost the whole barn with furrowed eyebrows until she spotted her beloved, adoptive father, lying on the ground.

She let out a piercing, pungent scream that echoed through the barn, which suddenly seemed bigger than even. Or maybe it was her, that was feeling insignificantly microscopic at the sight of her father's body on the ground, between piles of hay.

It was Jerry Baynard the one who had ran through the field to look for Marilla. The red-headed girl had collapsed next to Matthew's body. "Wake up!" she screamed. "Please, Matthew, wake up!". Her first thought was Gilbert. Gilbert could save him. But there was no use, for deep inside she knew it was useless. Matthew's hearbeat had left his body long ago.

Matthew Cuthbert was dead.

Marilla was still in the kitchen when the Baynard boy stormed into the house, trying his best to explain properly what had happened. Jerry was not related to the Cuthberts, not in blood, and he had not been adopted by them like Anne had. But they were like a second family to them.  "Mr. Cuthbert!" he just cried out, as he entered the kitchen startling Marilla. "He- he's, something's wrong!" His nerves seemed tohad taken over him. "Nous avons besoin d'aide!"

Marilla Cuthbert did not know a single word of French, but by looking at the boy's destroyed expression, she knew.

When the doctor finally arrived he said that his heart had given up. He had suffered from a heart-attack. However, he told Marilla that his death had been probably instantaneaous. He had not suffered that much.

Gilbert Blythe stared at the kitchen's clock as he paced nervously from one corner to another. He was starting to worry about Anne. She's never late, he thought. He waited for an hour until he decided to take his coat and scarf and leave his house. "Blythe, where are you going?"

"Green Gables" Gilbert answered, looking at Sebastian, who was enjoying a sunny yet cold January afternoon in the Blythe's porch.

"Oh" the man mouthed, holding back a grin. "Is today going to be the day when you are finally confessing your unconditional love to Anne of Green Gables?"

"I told you" Gilbert blushed. "She doesn't have to know" he said as he remembered his conversation with Bash; he had told him a few weeks ago how he felt about Anne, which only made Bash's teasing more frequent than before. "And I don't love her! I just want to make sure she's okay"

"Sounds like love to me" Bash added as he saw the silhouette of Gilbert Blythe disappearing into the white horizon.

By the time the boy arrived, the doctor had already left. There was a deadly profound silence that filled the atmosphere surrounding Green Gables. Unaware of the grievous situation, the boy knocked at the front door, to reveal a taken a back Anne-Shirley Cuthbert, who had completely forgot about their friendly date.

Her shocked face suddently turned to a extremely tired one. She tried to close the door after mumbling her following words. "Go away, Gilbert"

"What?" he stuck his foot in between the door, trying to stop the girl from closing it. "Anne"

"It's not the right time!" she said hysterically. The boy studied her face. Her usually full of life eyes were now weary and irritated.

"Have you been crying?!" Gilbert tried to take a hold of her wrist, but she pushed him away with strenght she did not know she had inside of her. "Just go away!"

"I'm not going away. Never" he assured, trying to cup her face although both his hands and his voice were shaking and his eyes were starting to water. "Please, tell me what I can d-"

"Go away!" she screamed before slamming the door right in his face. He stood there for what seemed an eternity; it could have been a few minutes or a few hours, but Gilbert felt so shocked that he felt as though he had lost track of time. He did not snap out of his trance until Marilla Cuthbert, with exhausted and weary eyes, opened the door and talked to him with such soft voice for such a severe woman. "It's Matthew, Gilbert" she said. "I think you should leave, is that alright?"

The next morning

A fifteen-year old Anne stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a long-sleeved, greyish, almost black dress. Plain, boring, mournful black. Her hair was down, she was not in the mood for an extravagant up-do or a long, elegant braid. Marilla was waiting for her downstairs, and she knew she had to get her strenght back and walked down those stairs as she had done multiple times in the past three years.

But everything, everything, reminded her of Matthew.

She had pinched her arm several times, hoping it would all turn out to be a dream. A nightmare. But it was real. Matthew was gone, and his body was going to be buried withing a few hours. A knot formed in her throat at the thought of Matthew Cuthbert being six-feet-under, alone, lifeless, for eternity.

Everyone in Avonlea knew that Anne Shirley-Cuthbert loved attention as much as she loved tragical romantic novels. But that cold Wednesday morning, the prospect of seeing all her school friends, her favourite teacher, and other acquaintances from Avonlea did not seem appealing under those circumstances.

They were in the cementery and the priest was saying what Anne assumed were the typical words for a burial, since it was the same speech she could remember from John Blythe's funeral. Despite Anne's love and passion for words, she was not paying attention. Everything surrounding her felt blurry and she was starting to feel nauseous at the sight of the wooden coffin.

Pools of tears formed in her blue eyes as she thought of Matthew's calm expression; his greyish hair and his light, kindhearted eyes closed. Forever. The girl took his eyes away from the cause of her anguish and decided to scan the crowd.

An apparently affected Mrs. Lynde, holding back her tears as she whispered something to another old woman, probably telling her the details of Matthew's death. Ruby Gillis, hopelessly crying, and her family. Charlie Sloane, with his hands shoved into his coat's pockets and eyes fixed in the snowy ground. The Barnyards. Jerry, drawing shapes in the snow with his feet, trying to focus on something else. The Barrys and Diana, with a very concerned look on her face.

When Anne and Diana's eyes met, Diana gave her a soft warm smile with her dark chocolate eyes. There were, however, a pair of eyes that Anne missed. Beautiful, gentle, luminous hazel eyes. She was not surprised at all at the fact that Gilbert was not there. Considering the way she had treated him the day before, how could she expect him to show up?

If only she knew that a certain hazel-eyed boy was watching the scene from a safe distance.

She stood there, almost petrified, as they lowered her father's coffin. She winced in pain but tried to contain her tears as Marilla held her tiny figure in her arms. The old woman let out a single tear that she carefully removed with the sleeve of her colourless dress. As people started to leave, others approached Anne and Marilla to give them their condolences

"Oh, Anne" a voice made Anne lift her eyes to identify the figure standing in front of them. Mrs. Lynde. "Words cannot explain my sorrow for your loss" the woman hugged Anne lightly, and then Marilla. "Dearest Marilla, I..." Anne stopped paying attention as she made her way to a stone bench.

She sat there staring fixedly at her feet. She felt guilty because Marilla was handling all the social work of the event. She felt selfish. But she was not strong enough to stand there, near what was now Matthew's grave, accepting people's condolences as signs of courtesy, as if the really knew Matthew Cuthbert. You don't know them at all, she thought. She wanted to cry and to scream until her lungs ran out of air, but she was so appalled and everything felt so... hallucinatory, she considered.

[PLAY SEA OF LOVERS - CHRISTINA PERRI, it's right above :) !]

The girl was so immersed in her mental deliberation that she did not hear the sound of loud footsteps in the snow. It was not until she felt the presence of a figure sitting beside her that she lifted her eyes, only to meet those eyes she had been missing so much during the ceremony.

The boy remained silent and so did she. He stared at the same direction as she was staring, as if it was the most interesting thing to watch. Gilbert wanted to confort her but he did not know how. Every word he knew had seemed to vanish into the cold breeze of that winter morning.

His first instinct was to offer her his hand, which she took. They both still had their eyes glued to the ground. He held her tiny hand in his, tightly. His touch made her shivery cold hand feel warmer. He looked over at her. Her hair was falling and covering most of her freckled face. The calm wind moved a few strands of her auburn hair, which made Gilbert move his free hand and tuck her hair behind her ear.

He looked back at the ground and kept holding her hand tightly. He held it as a promise, for her to know that she did not have to face this cruel world alone. He held it as a way of saying "I'm here for you". As if she had read his mind, she leant her head on his shoulder and started to cry quietly, letting out a few sobs.

The boy sighed. He hated to see her like this, but he knew that it was something that she had to go through. She needed to grieve and there was nothing he could do to bring Matthew back, but he wished he could make it less painful for her. He let go of her hand and pulled her into an tight and warm embrace that made the girl shiver. She let out helpless muffled sobs against the boy's chest whilst he stroked and caressed her hair delicately.

He knew that words would not make this any easier; at least, not his. So he stayed there with the red-haired girl in his arms as he took in the embrace of her, the smell of her hair. Gilbert Blythe had dreamed about this countless times, but never in his worst nightmares would he have imagined to see the brightest and most sparkling soul in Avonlea — hell, in the whole world — to be so darkened by calamity.

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A/N - Hi, I love you, don't hate me.

P.S.: If you spot any grammar/vocab mistake, please do comment it!!! AAAAAAND DON'T BE A SILENT READER! VOTE! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! ILY SM <3