They were siblings. However if you just glanced at them you would have never have guessed it, but if you actually took a moment to stop and stare at the two you could see the similarities. The girl had dark purple eyes, pale skin, and black hair. However, you couldn't see it because it was covered by the hood of her sweatshirt. Her right hand clutching on to a black satchel covered in sharpie writing. It contained book her mother had gave her right before she died, a sketchpad and some clothing. These were her only possession she cared about. Her left hand was holding on to her brother's hand for dear life.
He was her older brother. He had Dark red hair that looked the color of blood. Up at the corner of his forehead there was a kanji symbol tattoo. He carried a black duffel bag and a Jansport. The duffel bag contained his clothing. The Janspot had his I-pod, journal, and his keyboard, which barely fit. The sewers were filled with the sounds of their running feet. They did not care where they were headed as long as they could get out.
The dark haired girl tripped. Her knee grazed the concrete floor. Her brother gabbed her arm. "Rae come one we have to keep moving"
"Why Gaara? Why? What's the point we have nowhere to go and we can't go back home not after…."
"What did you expect me to do Rae? Keep letting him kick our asses." Gaara knelt down and pulled her into a hug. "I couldn't watch him hurt you anymore. I couldn't let him do that to you. You don't deserve it." He whispered, "no one does." Rachel gripped onto her brother for dear life. She let the tears flow freely. Nothing mattered more to her than her twin brother. He took hits for her. He protected her and he was always there for her whenever she needed a friend. Neither of them could see the four sets of eyes watching them from the darkness.
Rachel sniffled, "Gaara, we've been running all night, can we please rest now?" he looked her over. Her sweatshirt now dirty and ripped from the fall, he could see she was freezing. He turned towards the opposite end of the tunnel and sighed. Gaara knew they had to keep moving, but he could see that they were not going to get much further tonight. He turned back to his little sister smiling.
"Ok Rae. We can turn in for the night." He picked up all of these things and moved to a spot that was just under the sewer grate. He opened the duffel bag and pulled out a small sleeping bag and a blanket. He motioned for her to lay down which she quickly agreed to. She placed the satchel where a pillow would have been and pulled out a patty old teddy bear. Rachel climbed into the sleeping bag and stared up at her older brother.
"Gaara?" she asked.
"Hmm?" he turned towards her.
"What are you staring at?" her young purple eyes suddenly got bigger.
He chuckled and pointed up at the grate. "Before you were born mom and I used to go up to the roof of our old building and since it was at the edge of the city we could still see the stars in the sky."" He smiled up towards the grate recalling the time before his life turned to hell. Gaara turned back towards his little sister. "Go to sleep Rae-Rae I'll always be here to protect you." The smaller girl leaped into her older brothers arms.
"I love you Gaara, you're the best oniisan anyone could ever have." He kissed her forehead.
"Get your rest. You're going to need it tomorrow." He stared at his younger sister as she fell asleep. Once he could see that she was asleep, his smile faded. He lifted up his sleeves and inspected the bruises and scars that covered his arms. He sighed as he traced the lines of a scar he got when he talked back to his stepfather. He got angry and threw Gaara into a glass table. One time he had counted how many scars he had. He came to a total of 169. That was 169 white lines that would never fully fade. Some that was earned because he was a rebel, but most were earned pushing his little sister out of the way. He would never let anyone touch a hair on her head. She would occasionally suffer from a scrape or a bruise, but those things came with being a 13-year-old Goth girl in a New York City middle school.
So instead, Gaara took the hits for her. He never showed her his pain. He never let her see his weakness. He never wanted her to see how broken he was.