Till Death Do Us Part

April 1, 2017
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It’s 3:25 PM, and my black converse stride down 24th street. I walk past all the beautiful houses and store fronts. My day at school seemed to drag on forever and I want to go sit in my room and open a novel. I listen to the hum of the car engines that are all around me. I live in a little town you would only know if you lived here.  It’s a rather dreary day so I pick up the pace, eager to get home. I turn the bend and there is my house, medium sized, but elegant in it’s own. My house is a dark grey color, with white shutters around the windows. I recall the day we moved here, I knew this would be a great place to live, and I was right about that… until I wasn’t.

I briskly walk to the large oak door and all in one movement pull out my house key from my backpack. I unlock the door and head inside, I then proceed to lock the door behind me, something my parents have taught me from day 1. I then bound up the stairs to my bedroom on the second floor. I look into Katie’s room and then instantly regret it. I reach my room in a matter of seconds and throw the door shut. I crumple onto the carpeted floor. I am sobbing by this point, not being able to contain my emotions anymore. I stay on the floor for about 10 minutes until I decide to stand up. When I finally raise myself from the floor I go into my bathroom and see that my face is swollen from all of the tears I have shed and my mascara is all over my face. I wash my face and throw my messy blonde hair into a bun. I then go back into my room and kick off my shoes and change into comfortable clothes. I go and sit at my desk, which is littered with drawings and books. There is one that particularly catches my eye every time, not by what it looks like but when I drew it. It’s not a good drawing, just a bunch of color swirls, from the day the accident happened.

It happened just like any other normal day, Katie and I went to school, me being a freshman and her being a big bad senior. I wish she would have told me something was wrong, or let me in on her plan so I could have stopped her. Instead I got the usual, “Love you kiddo, I’ll see you at home after your basketball practice.” Of course I gave her the lazy “I love you too. I’ll see you later.” I wish I had been more in depth with her that day, but we were so close… she would tell me everything right? Wrong. I ended up getting a ride from Jen’s mom, and as soon as I saw the door unlocked I knew something was wrong. I ran into the house and up the stairs to find my older sister’s lifeless body on her bathroom floor. I see the bottle of pills, and the scars that I have never seen before. I frantically call 911 but it is too late. I didn’t go to school for a month and my parents and I cried every time we thought of something that involved her. I got a bunch of apologies, but none of them mattered, because none of them could bring my sister back.

My parents are more protective now, always watching my every move. Yet they don’t realize that their 2nd daughter, their baby girl, is falling into the same hole that her older sister had 2 years before. What they don’t tell you is that school gets harder, people get meaner, and the people that you need the most forget about you and are never there. I’ve realized now that I’ve gone into my parent’s room the whole time I’ve been daydreaming. I open the drawers and there they are, my sister’s killers. I quickly lock the door and realize that I am about to do the same thing that hurt me the most. I fill my hand with the little blue pills, I never realized that something so little could hurt someone so much. I raise my hand to my mouth when I hear a tiny knock on the door. I quickly shove my hand away from my mouth and ask,” Who is it?” I then hear the tiny voice of my 2nd grade sister, Rebecca, “Hey Soph, can you come help me learn how to draw pretty pictures, like the ones you draw?” I choke back a sob and reply, “Of course sweetie, give me one minute.” She then says, “Okay I’m going to go get my crayons and paper,” and scurries off to do her task. I sink to my hands and knees in a heaping mess of emotions. I shove the pills back into the bottle and clean my face off so I can present myself to my little sister. As soon as I exit the bathroom my little sister wraps me in a hug and says, “I love you so much, and I don’t know where Katie went but I hope that you never leave me for her.” I bend down so that I can look her in the eyes and tell her, “I’m never going anywhere without you.”

Rebecca then takes my hand and leads me to the living room where she has all of her art supplies (that she has gathered over the years) all over the coffee table. She sits down and I promptly do so next to her. She starts to draw a picture and I realize then and there that I will never be able to leave this little girl. I need her just as much she needs me.  I silently vow that I will never do any harm to myself ever. Rebecca and I sit there for hours drawing, laughing, and telling jokes. In that moment nothing else matters but her, I will never go where Katie went, and I will do my best to make sure no one else does either. It clicks in my mind as soon as I’m about to go to bed, but unknowingly, my little sister has saved my life, and I don’t think I will ever be able to return the favor. My little sister is a hero, and she doesn’t even know it yet.  

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