It was like he died on the inside and from the memories, we felt the stabbing pain in his heart and then...nothing but coldness remain. It was not the kind of coldness that blanketed the body and you can cure with some covers. No. The coldness was on the inside, starting from the wrists and made its way to the heart.

Is this what he felt? 
This unshakable blizzard?

My teeth clattered from its grip yet my own body was too warm for words. I wanted it to end; to be able to hug the memory of the man and make the coldness go away. I couldn't though...because this already happened. It was the past just playing before my eyes and I am the shadow, unseen by the memory. I am the fly on the wall, watching as his heart breaks.

"She's gone." It was barely a whisper but to my ears, it was as if a surround sound was turned on. He slid to the floor, bent over in the halls of the hospital room. With his arms over his head and his head between his knees, he whispered to himself, unknowingly to my existence. "She's gone...like her mom....like her grandmother and her great grandmother. Like my own children and my friends and...and..." 'Myself.' 

His thoughts felt like a bullet in the back of my brain. "Everyone always leaves me..." sniffles rung out silently but discernible. "Everyone always dies on me." His body locked up tightly, and the most I could see was the quivers in his body. What it must have been like. To live for decades, unable to die, yet having to watch your loved ones die many times. I paused and thought back on his family. Then I looked down in shame. 

What it must be like to have your loved ones die or leave you behind. To leave  like I left him and not even give him a second glance back. Tears gathered in my eyes, realizing the consuming pain my foster dad had went through in this moments and more moments to come. Growing up, I just saw the surface. My foster dad was someone strict but unconditionally loving. He was strong and made sure never to cry in front of my brother and I. Despite that, he would stress the importance of kindness and love for people. He practiced what he preached too because....

I wasn't lovely at all. I turned bitter to this man in front of me. I blamed him for many things: for my mother's death, for my dad's death, for the gap between my brother and myself. I even blamed him for the littlest things I can find. My face grew hot with shame. 

And how did he react back to my hatred?
He reacted back with love.

Oh God in heaven...I'm such a horrible, horrible person.

People say "you never know somebody until you lived their lives." That is true a statement as I stand, tasting the bitterness of my tears. It's lonely, silent, dark...much to dark yet the halls are perfectly lightened. The walls are too close and the coldness is morphing to my skin but I can't find the will to shake it away. This is what his life was like.

The sniffles stopped, as well as his quivers. Sluggishly, my foster dad stood up and with his right arm, wiped away the tears. He kept his arm on his eyes for a moment, whispering to the air, "She gave me the choice to take custody of her children...." My own pounded in my ears. Turning to my brother, he looked as nervous as I felt. "I can't." My eyes widened, fixated on our foster dad once more. His arm wasn't on his eyes anymore but I wish they still were. They were dull now, our foster parent's eyes. They were no longer a soft honey glow but a opaque brown. Something I have only seen once in my own lifetime. He walked down the halls until he came to another room with a giant window to look into. Louder, as if telling himself, he declared "I can't take these kids. I don't want to take them."

 My mouth slackened in disbelief and shock. He didn't want us? My mind raced, saddened by those words that came out of the mouth that spoke nothing but in loving tones to us. My tears slid down my face but I couldn't move. Those words just hurt too much. However, I was not alone in this. My brother's hand found my own, dragging me out from the depression that tried to take me away.

That's right...this is just a memory.
The past that already happened.

"We have to watch this." My brother said. His face was blank but his hand, like mine was shaking. This is a side of our guardian that was hidden from us. We have to watch it or we dishonor the memory.

Our foster dad looked through the window at all the babies sleeping on the inside. Two were awake and looking back at him. "I can't take you with me." He begged with a heart on his chest. "Don't give me those looks. I can't! I won't! It hurts too much...just like with your mother."

"Sir?" Our guardian tensed up. "Are you Oliver Frank Held?" Stiffly, unsure, he nodded. "Good! Can you come inside please? I would like to discuss some things with you." The nurse was Miss Jay. She was always a nice lady and took care of us when our foster parent was swamped with work. She waited patiently as our foster dad followed her in this nursery. 

He seemed to want to run away from her...from us but he didn't. He lifted his chin in that usual defensive way that many took as snotty and he marched inside, acting like nothing affected him. However, before he knew it, Miss Jay had placed our baby selves in both his arms.

"You are the only relative of Mrs. Ellen Held, that she gave custody of her kids to...if you accept custody that is. So you get to name them and take them home or you can give them over to the orphanage." She spoke slowly but clearly while eyeing us in the arms of our foster parent. 

The shock passed our foster dad. His answer was set in stone - we could see it written all over his face as his eyebrows furrowed and a frown set in place. However, as he opened his mouth to throw us away, my baby-self reached out a hand and slapped him cheek. His eyes widened as he looked down at my baby self, almost unbelieving that I slapped him.

He looked into the faces of my younger self, then into the face of my brother. He stared, burning our faces into memory. From above, we can see the racing of his thoughts at that moment. It was too much to comprehend but one, giant, word stood out.

'SORRY.'

"You both cheated." 'How could I, even for a moment, have thought of abandoning you two? You both are gifts from God...a beautiful gift, He must have left for the breaking of this old heart.' We cried with our foster dad as anguish, happiness, and guilt pooled into his heart. "That's not fair you two. Not fair."

The ground beneath us shattered and once more, all of us were free-falling as the memory faded away.

(A/N: So this story is actually based off a fanfiction I wanted to write but never really finished. I don't think I'm going to make it a fanfiction (hence why I changed the foster dad's name to Oliver Frank Held. It was a spur of the moment thing.) The plot is mostly about this "Oliver" life. His 'family' goes back in time per-say and sees his life plays out. The story originally begins with Oliver's death and everyone tied to him doesn't really get along with each other or with him. They are only there out of politeness. Some, who were actually close to the foster dad, truly misses him but others are indifferent to his death at first. It's a mix between scifi and fantasy but I don't know if I really want to write it. I can't explain why but that too might take forever. Please, tell me your guys thoughts on this and if you guys would like me to take a shot at this story.)

God Bless you all!