As she comes closer, she can make out the familiar blond wavy hair peeking out from under the blanket. The steady movement of deep breathing is evidence that her brother is asleep right now. Blair steps carefully to the side so that she can sit on the porch railings, not wanting to wake him up. However, the aging wood is too weak to hold her weight. It cracks under her bottom, splitting the evening stillness on the back porch. Out of reflex, she grabs the pole next to her for balance while muttering cuss words.

The commotion wakes up the sleeping brother. Brayden stirs awake, and his eyes are slowly open.

"I'm sorry," Bair says, "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Brayden props himself to sit upright. Looking confused, his eyes roam over the back porch and stop on Blair's face. He doesn't move for a few seconds before rubbing his eyes and looking up again. He blinks. "Blair," he says. "Is it really you? I'm not dreaming, am I?"

Blair's lips curl up into a smile. "Yes, it's me. And no, you're not dreaming."

Taking in her brother's figure, she realizes how thin he has become. Even under the dim light skimming through the kitchen window, his skin is unmistakably pale. His cheekbones look more prominent than ever, and the dark circles around his eyes are alarming.

Blair narrows her eyes on her brother, slightly bending over to him to take a better look. "Brayden, are you sick? You don't look well," she says.

"I'm not sick." Brayden pushes his blanket to the side and lowers his feet to the ground. He glances up at her, still with mixed emotions written on his face. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?"

"I did send you a letter. Did you not receive it?"

"What letter?"

"About me coming to you. I sent it a week ago."

Brayden purses his lips. "Weird, he says, I didn't get it."

"They must have delivered it to a different address. It happens pretty often lately," Blair says as she sighs, but then a smile reappears across her face. "It doesn't matter now. I'm here and you're home."

"It's been a while. I've been trying to find you, but no one knows your whereabouts. Where have you been, Blair?"

"Brayden—" she pauses, contemplating telling him the truth; the truth about her hiding under a new name and different hair color in these past years. But she decides against it. "I've been working in the city," she says. "I'm sorry I've been shutting myself off from everyone, but I'm doing fine. I've got the help that I need and I've been talking to someone for years now."

Brayden nods a few times, pleased with her answer despite the superficial information she gave him. Blair knows she has to tell him the reason she came home, but it can wait for now. She's just arrived, after all. It's been eight years since she saw him at their mother's funeral, and the emotional gap between them feels unbearably large at the moment.

"It's freezing out here," Blair says, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't understand how you could fall asleep in this cold. Let's go inside. I'll make us some tea."

In the next fifteen minutes, the siblings settle in the kitchen with two cups of tea and a jar of gingerbread sitting on the table between them. The awkwardness envelops the kitchen air as they silently sip from their teacups and munch on the cookies.

"Have you eaten? I can order food for us," says Brayden.

"I had an early dinner on the train, and am still hungry now. I thought it would be handy in case I couldn't find you here."

"Okay." Brayden looks down at his porcelain cup. "You have no idea how happy I am to have you home again, Blair. I've missed you. And oh, I missed your thirtieth birthday last week. I guess it's not too late to say it now." Brayden looks up and smiles; the smile that once became her favorite. "Happy belated birthday."

"Thank you," she says, a smile growing on her face. "I thought it was time for me to visit you. I'm sorry if it took too long."

"No, I get it. I'd understand if you didn't want to have anything to do with me anymore." Brayden looks her in the eye, a glint of sadness flashing in his eyes. "Or with this house, he adds."

"You're my brother. No matter what happened in the past, we will still always be related. I only have two choices, Brayden: keep on hating my past or make peace with it. I chose the latter. And that's why I came home now."

Brayden stares blankly at the cookie jar in front of them. "I wish I could change the past for you, for us. If only I could turn back the time, I would do it differently."

"No. You were just a child, Brayden. You didn't know any better."

"I hope you understand that Mother never meant to hurt you, Blair. His eyes slowly turn glassy. She was just..."

"Sick," Blair says, finishing his line, ignoring the churning in her stomach. "I know that. But still, it doesn't mean it never happened. And it's not easy to get over all the pain Mother made me carry for all of those years."

"I wish I stepped up and defended you as a big brother should."

Blair doesn't reply. Her shaky forefinger traces the curve of the porcelain cup while her mind is sailing to that room. The room with a green door.

°°°

They were both facing the mirror. Blair's mother stood behind her with scissors in her hand and eyes blazed with anger.

"I knew the second you were born, you weren't my child," her mother said. "They took my baby away when she was still in my womb. You're sent to this world to destroy my life. To kill my husband."

Blair tried to sniffle her sob as tears escaped her eyes. "I'm your child, Mother. I've always been."

"Silent! Do not speak to me!" Her mother grabbed her long blond hair, saying, "You've been hiding long enough behind those pretty blue eyes, behind this silky hair. It's time to show yourself."

She pulled her hair, jerked her head to the side, and the scissors started to dance on her long wavy blonde hair.

Brayden sat on their mother's bed, watching silently as their mother abused his sister.

°°°

"Come here, my child."

Blair stood still at the doorway, nervously glancing at her mother, who was sitting on the vanity chair by the bedroom window. The torment from last night's assault was still very clear playing in her head. But when she now looked into her mother's brown eyes, she saw love and adoration.

"Are you not angry at me anymore, Mother?"

Her mother chuckled. "When am I ever, baby girl? You know I always love you. Come, close the door behind you, and sit on your mother's lap."

Every word that escaped her mother's mouth was to be obeyed. Blair shut the door before slowly walking to her mother. When she was close enough, her mother extended her hands to gently help Blair settle on her lap. Then her mother began to hum her favorite song while resting her chin on the top of Blair's hair.

She felt loved.

When a hand caressed her unevenly cut hair, Blair stiffened, but she relaxed again once the singing resumed. Blair melted into her mother's arms while her body drank in her motherly voice.

Peaceful.

It was until the humming stopped, replaced by the sound of the ticking clock on her mother's dressers. Blair waited in anticipation as her eyes were fixed on the closed green door. Her escape.

°°°

"Our house is pretty much the same as when you came home eight years ago. Nothing has really changed." Brayden's voice pulls Blair back to the current moment. "Only, your bedroom has a minor issue with the heating. I need to fix it tomorrow. You can use Mother's room tonight."

Blair quivers at the idea. "Can I just stay in your room instead?"

"Of course."

Blair rubs her upper arms. "And it's cold here. I don't know how you can survive this temperature by only wearing a shirt. Actually, why don't we move to your bedroom and talk some more? We have a lot to catch up on."

Brayden agrees. He then stands up to lock the kitchen door. When Blair tries to clean up the table, he touches her hand to stop her. "I'll take care of it in the morning."