I ought to start at the beginning, before the dreams and the visits to the shrink and hiding the books; before the funeral and the day in the snow; before Matthew died and before I had the need to tell you any of this. I ought to go all the way back to when the books lining his shelf didn’t make my mother cry and to a time when I hadn’t even seen snow.

But why stop there? Why not go all the way back? Back to a point when he didn’t have the need to know everything, back to when it was just me and my mother and my father and we were happy without him. How strange would that be to rewind- see Matthew fall up through the ice, see us both run backwards across the snow, see us grow younger and younger until poof! Matthew is gone again but see my parents smile as my mother drastically loses weight. See with a poof! young Damien curling up the umbilical cord, see eggs fall up fallopian tubes and further and further until we’re back at the darkness that must have been before there was snow or ice or funerals.
But what use is that if I go back only to go forward and allow everything to happen again? Can I change this story? Can I re-arrange the plot? See Damian and Matthew walking in the snow, both so absolutely content for the first time in their short and shorter lives, they don’t know how to describe it. See them race, see them running unaware of the slick ice that lies ahead, see Matthew pull level with his older brother, see him grin in victory, see…

Now here is where I need to edit. This next scene doesn’t sit well with me at all, so I’m going to make some alterations, make some cuts here and there. I’m going to make a costume change, untie a shoelace perhaps; nothing too drastic.

See Matthew trip, stumble and crash to the ground. See Damian slow to pick his younger brother up. See them laugh. See Matthew breathing not icy water, but icy air. See his chest moving in and out, quivering with every heart beat.
See Matthew’s heart beat.
See Matthew and Damian buying hot chocolate.
See Matthew that night in bed, curled under the sheets instead of stretched; only asleep temporarily and not for eternity.
See Matthew wake the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and…

See Matthew.