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November 1, 2012
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Me and Kitty, Kitty and me, sitting by the stream, hair dancing in the wind, muddy toes teasing the cool, calming water. Giggling, shouting, not a care in the world, or in the entire universe for that matter, because nothing could have ruined that moment...
How could that day have only been a week ago? Just a week.. it seems like an eternity. A week ago I was just a care free twelve year old, my sister healthy, my parents happy. Now it seems like everything is jumbled up, disorientated. My life is a shaken snow globe with no chance of resettling.
I knew from the moment my mum stepped through the door that something was wrong. Very wrong. Jumping down from my perch at the top of the stairs I was met by the strong open arms of my father, pulling me close. Now I was scared; Dad never hugged. After being gently guided into the living room, I lowered myself down onto the sofa. I began to panic as I saw the sparkling tears shining in his eyes. They threatened to spill over. His lip quivered. Glancing at my mum I noticed that she was crying silently into a wad of tissue. My eyes sought Dad’s, begging for answers that wasn't’t sure I wanted to hear. Someone had died. That I knew. But who? Grandma? Grandpa? Auntie Jenny? No. The next words that came out of his mouth changed my life, and will stay etched in my memory like a scar on my skin.
Kitty. No. Not Kitty. Not my big sister. It couldn’t be true. But could it? My big sister...dead? The cushions of the sofa became a whirlpool, seemingly sucking me under, into the horrifying abyss. The room was spinning before me, the faces of my family blurring. The light seemed to erupt into a million pieces, like shattered glass, throwing a kaleidoscope of colour all over the room. My breath was coming out in short sharp gasps and the tears burning in my eyes overflowed and poured down my face. I pictured Kitty, lying dead in a coffin knew I needed to escape this before I began to scream. Somewhere. Anywhere. Away from anything that would remind me of Kitty as all I would see would be my mental image of her pale white corpse.
Hurtling down the winding roads, not caring where I went, I stumbled over the curb and gashed my shin. The feeling of the warm blood trickling down my leg and the heaving pain in my chest brought me back to reality and when I managed to pathetically limp over to the nearest bench, I felt my knees buckle beneath me and the harsh truth hit me all over again, but this time it was ten times worse. Kitty was dead. I felt myself going to pieces, my whole frame shaking with uncontrollable grief, ripping through my body, shaking me to me very core.
After what seemed like hours the sobs subsided, came to observe my surroundings, only to realise with a surge of déjà vu that this was the place Kitty used to take me when I was six. I remembered being sat on the crisp grass by the pond, squeaking in delight at the chorus of quacking we received as we threw the chunks of stale bread for the ducks. It was in thinking of these times that I realised with a surge of guilt that I didn’t know HOW Kitty died. My stomach knotted at the thought of how selfish I had been, running out of the houses, leaving my parents alone. They had already lost one daughter, then their other had run off, without even asking about her dead sister! A sudden chill ran through me, as I realised that I would never see her again. I made up my mind there and then to ask my Dad if I could see her in her coffin, just once, to say goodbye.
The multicoloured autumn leaves crunch and crackle under my feet as I walk through the grave yard towards her tombstone. I carefully lay the bouquet of lilies on the stone. Pure and beautiful; just like her. It has been a year now since my sister was harshly torn from my life, by a reckless driver who knocked her down and left her bleeding, broken, beaten in the middle of the road. I am still consumed with hatred and rage whenever I think of this person, but I get on with my life. I am stronger now. Grief no longer transforms me into a quaking ball of sobs each night, I don’t wake up from countless nightmares drenched in sweat, shaking, and sometimes I am even happy. Yet I will never forget her. Never let anyone forget her. My big sister. Kitty.





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CammyS said...
Nov. 8, 2012 at 7:33 am
Great job! i could really feel the narrators pain.
 
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