I sat at my desk, staring straight ahead. I stared at the wall in front of me, not moving my eyes a fraction. I tried not to see it. I tried not to think about it. But I knew it was there.
My eyes strayed to the side, and the spell was broken. I couldn’t ignore it any longer. It wasn’t going to go away no matter how I looked away. I picked it up in my hands and stared at it, taking it in. I thought about all the deadly power it possessed, and whom that power was meant for. Me or her? It had to be one.
It was a bottle, filled with a thick black liquid. At a glance, it seemed unremarkable, but I knew better. I was in charge of the fate of this poison. I had the choice to either slip it in my sister’s coffee or drink it in my own. My decision must be made by morning, and my sister’s alarm clock would be going off in half an hour.
How could I do either? I could never take my sister’s life – I had no right to it. I could never justify my deciding for her when it would end. It was simply not my decision to make, and I could not act as though I had such high authority over one of my own kind. On the other hand, I could never take my own, either. All those heroic novels and stories, this was different. This was real. I had so much ahead of me, so much that I wanted to see and do and experience. But of course, she had a life to look forward to as well! She wasn’t even less likely to succeed – she was probably much more likely to do so, in fact. But at the same time, it was so much different to feel death in my own head than to imagine it wrought on another.
I didn’t know what to do. If I didn’t make the decision to kill one of us, we would both die. No, it was better than one should live – but which one? Common sense told me to choose her to live – the oldest, the smartest. But another part of my brain told me to be heartless. Who cares if she dies – you don’t have to feel the blow! I was shocked by this cruel portion of my brain making an appearance, but I was even more terrified to realize that it was an option – to kill my sister and feel no guilt. I could do it. I could take a life and just be glad it wasn’t my own.
After all, hadn’t I been given the power? I had been handed the bottle and told to make a decision. Life was filled with luck, and I had been lucky enough to be capable of saving my own life. At the same time, one couldn’t blame all their wrongdoings on life’s doings. Life was unfair, and sometimes one had to do all they could to make it fair. But when it was as serious and permanent as this – didn’t it make sense to choose the better option for yourself?
I couldn’t do that. I was a good person! I didn’t kill! If I did murder her, I would never let go of it – never. How could I live my dreams and fulfill my hopes, knowing that they should have been hers? How could I ever be happy with my life with my other genetic half cold and dead, knowing it was at my hands that she died? I was 13 years old, she was 16. It was too young. It was too young for either of us. I couldn’t bear to let go of my life, but I could never live with myself if I took hers.
I wasn’t helping myself – I still had no idea what to do. But it was 15 minutes till the alarm went off, and I had to get to the coffee maker before she did. I walked into the kitchen and bided my time loading up the coffee maker with fresh grounds and water. When it finished brewing, I took out two identical cups and filled them with an exactly equal amount of coffee. I put them in the middle of the empty counter and, slowly, hand shaking, poured in 3 drops of thick black liquid.
My sister walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
“Hi”, she mumbled sleepily.
“Hello” I replied, knowing it was the last time I would ever hear her voice.
My eyes strayed to the side, and the spell was broken. I couldn’t ignore it any longer. It wasn’t going to go away no matter how I looked away. I picked it up in my hands and stared at it, taking it in. I thought about all the deadly power it possessed, and whom that power was meant for. Me or her? It had to be one.
It was a bottle, filled with a thick black liquid. At a glance, it seemed unremarkable, but I knew better. I was in charge of the fate of this poison. I had the choice to either slip it in my sister’s coffee or drink it in my own. My decision must be made by morning, and my sister’s alarm clock would be going off in half an hour.
How could I do either? I could never take my sister’s life – I had no right to it. I could never justify my deciding for her when it would end. It was simply not my decision to make, and I could not act as though I had such high authority over one of my own kind. On the other hand, I could never take my own, either. All those heroic novels and stories, this was different. This was real. I had so much ahead of me, so much that I wanted to see and do and experience. But of course, she had a life to look forward to as well! She wasn’t even less likely to succeed – she was probably much more likely to do so, in fact. But at the same time, it was so much different to feel death in my own head than to imagine it wrought on another.
I didn’t know what to do. If I didn’t make the decision to kill one of us, we would both die. No, it was better than one should live – but which one? Common sense told me to choose her to live – the oldest, the smartest. But another part of my brain told me to be heartless. Who cares if she dies – you don’t have to feel the blow! I was shocked by this cruel portion of my brain making an appearance, but I was even more terrified to realize that it was an option – to kill my sister and feel no guilt. I could do it. I could take a life and just be glad it wasn’t my own.
After all, hadn’t I been given the power? I had been handed the bottle and told to make a decision. Life was filled with luck, and I had been lucky enough to be capable of saving my own life. At the same time, one couldn’t blame all their wrongdoings on life’s doings. Life was unfair, and sometimes one had to do all they could to make it fair. But when it was as serious and permanent as this – didn’t it make sense to choose the better option for yourself?
I couldn’t do that. I was a good person! I didn’t kill! If I did murder her, I would never let go of it – never. How could I live my dreams and fulfill my hopes, knowing that they should have been hers? How could I ever be happy with my life with my other genetic half cold and dead, knowing it was at my hands that she died? I was 13 years old, she was 16. It was too young. It was too young for either of us. I couldn’t bear to let go of my life, but I could never live with myself if I took hers.
I wasn’t helping myself – I still had no idea what to do. But it was 15 minutes till the alarm went off, and I had to get to the coffee maker before she did. I walked into the kitchen and bided my time loading up the coffee maker with fresh grounds and water. When it finished brewing, I took out two identical cups and filled them with an exactly equal amount of coffee. I put them in the middle of the empty counter and, slowly, hand shaking, poured in 3 drops of thick black liquid.
My sister walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
“Hi”, she mumbled sleepily.
“Hello” I replied, knowing it was the last time I would ever hear her voice.
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