How I Killed My Sister

I was 7 years older than her. She was 9 and I was 16. She had round blue eyes & long blonde hair. I had dark eyes with short black hair. I hated the fact that everyone loved her. My parents paid more attention to her than they did to me so I was never at home, but rather with my friends whom I felt at home with and rather accepted.

Whenever my little sister came to my room, with the hatred I had for her I screamed at her and told her to go play with her dolls. At school, my friends and I always made fun of her.

One day, at home, during dinner she brought out a little piece of paper and handed it to me smiling charmingly. She asked me to open it. I thought it was childish and useless to look at the paper so I teased her and without taking a look at what was in the paper, I squeezed it and threw it away. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes, soon she got up and ran to her room and all I did was laugh about it.

On a hot sunny day, with my headphones on, singing out loud and riding my bike back home from school. I rode down the street. I couldn’t wait to get back home and take a shower. A few yards from my house I noticed an ambulance parked in front of my house, so I paddled faster. People clustered around my house. I was too busy looking at them when I heard my mom scream. A stretcher came out through our front door.

It looked like something was beneath those white sheets. My dad was holding my mom back as she was trying to hold the stretcher, while it was being pulled to the ambulance. Seeing the tears on my mom’s face I became so scared and confused. I came down from my bike and removed the headphones. I dropped my school bag on the ground and walked as fast as I could, almost running towards the stretcher. I asked the paramedics what was going on but no one gave me an answer. I was angry and confused and scared so, I pulled the sheets off to see what was hidden underneath.

It was white and pale. So lifeless but yet still pretty. I kept on staring at it with disbelief in my eyes. The paramedics covered it back and continued moving the stretcher towards the ambulance.

I felt like I was becoming deaf and dumb.

I couldn’t hear what the neighbors were saying. All I could hear was my own heartbeat and my thoughts out loud. Like a statue, I stood and looked at everyone. I could see my mom in tears. I could see my neighbors, talking, crying, whispering.

“Is she really the one on the stretcher?” I kept on asking myself in my head.

I couldn’t believe what I saw. I kept on praying I would wake up from the nightmare… I ran upstairs praying that I’d find my 9-year-old sister fast asleep or singing one of her dumb nursery rhymes in her
room. I opened the door to her room and it was empty.

“Oh, My God!” I kept on saying to myself.

“It’s all a dream right?!”

“It can’t be true, she’s somewhere here playing hide and seek.”

I sat on her little chair. Still thinking aloud. Still shocked. Then something caught my eyes, a little book. A diary.

I flipped through it and I stumbled on a page that had my name. The last page.

“Hi Melissa,

I’ve always wanted us to be the best of friends but you hated me so much and it made me cry. Mom always said we’ll be friends someday and I believed her. I tried being nice to you. I tried making you notice me in school but you and your friends always bullied me and it hurt me so bad. I always felt so lonely and I wanted us to be best friends.

I drew a picture of me and you having fun. I thought you’d love me if I did that but rather you teased me and threw the picture away without even looking at it. I cried till my eyes turned red. I was hoping you’d come to my room and tell me you were sorry but you never showed up. I know you hate me so I’ve made up my mind to stay out of your life for a long long time. I hope mom and dad show you much love as they did to me.

See you in heaven soon, Melissa.

I love you big sis.

Your little sister ♥”

It fell out of my hands and dropped to the floor. I heard someone call out my name softly,

‘Meliiisssaaaa’

I heard it! It was her voice, my little sister’s voice. I turned back to see if she was there but it was just her bed. My hands were shaky. I began to hyperventilate. For the first time in years, tears flowed from my eyes for her. It was like knives were being used to cut through my heart. Oh, the pain! The tears! Only then did it dawn on me that I didn’t hate her after all, I was only jealous and I loved her too.

If only I had listened and paid more attention to my little sister. If only I had cared for her. If only I showed her how much I loved her too. If only.

It was on the news the next day,

“9-year-old girl drowns herself in a bathtub because of severe depression…”

It’s been 11 years since it happened and a day hasn’t gone by without me feeling the guilt. Not a single day.

 

Mirabelle Morah

Oct 15, 2012