Friday, October 11, 2013

Words Taken Too Far

My name is Amia, I am 14 years old, and I am the reason my sister left.
I woke up to the yelling and screaming of my parents. I ran to the kitchen and found my mother  sobbing in one of our kitchen chairs, and my father rubbing her back, trying to calm her down. Where was Lea? How could she sleep through all of that yelling? Her room was closer to the stairs than mine!
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I was so confused and still half asleep.
“Sh-She’s gone.” my mom barely got out before she started crying again.
“Who? Who’s gone mom?” I questioned, still extremely confused.
“Lea.” My father answered. “She isn’t here.” I could’ve sworn my heart stopped. I was now WIDE awake, and living a real-life nightmare. Flashbacks from last night ran through my mind. Lea barging into my room, The two of us fighting, Me telling her to leave, and Lea storming out.
“Oh no.” I whispered.
“Do you know where she is?” My father asked.
“No, But. I think it’s my fault she’s gone.” I responded. My mother instantly stopped crying and glared at me.
“Does this have anything to do with the yelling I heard coming from your room last night?” she growled. I was too afraid to respond so instead I nodded my head. “Spill, all of it. What happened last night?” I explained everything. Word by word all starting with when Lea walked into my room, to the second she left slamming her door shut. I had thought she just went back to her room.
“I didn’t mean it mom. I didn’t want her to leave, she just wouldn’t leave me alone! I’m sorry.” I cried out after I had finished.
“Well you probably shouldn’t have said Get Lost, and Just Leave!.” She shot back. That’s where our conversation ended. Both mom and dad didn’t talk to me at all for the rest of the day. They called in to the police and left around noon to put up posters and ask around. When they came home that night they didn’t say anything, and went straight to bed. I waited about an hour before I went to bed myself, and when I walked up the stairs I could hear my parents whisper-yells coming from their closed door. Although I couldn’t make out what they were saying, I knew that they were fighting and it had something to do with me.

My parents have been fighting ever since Lea ran away. She was always the favorite, and now their baby girl has run away leaving them with the other one. I haven’t been sleeping well, because every time I fall asleep I wake up to her voice. She isn’t there but my mind is playing tricks on me and driving me insane. That annoying voice that used to give me headaches daily, is now the only voice I want to hear. My parents aren’t helping either. Mom cries throughout the day, and since the day she ran away, when my dad gets home both of them watch home videos they made of her. Neither of them acknowledge me, other than the frequent “This is all your fault.” and glare. I get it, it is my fault and the guilt inside is eating me up, but you telling me this every day is making it even worse.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t know where she was but I was going to at least show how much I cared. I left home and walked to the edge of town where the woods are. It was about a five minute walk because of how close we live. There is a spot where my parents would take our Easter pictures each year. It was a stone bench in a small clearing with trees all around, and if you went at just the right time the sun would shine directly on the bench. I continued walking until I came to the bench and I just looked at it. I pictured two little girls running around together and laughing. One was about five with a light pink dress on, and the other girl was about 3 and her dress was blue and purple. They looked so happy. I just couldn’t take it anymore, I let it all out, dropping to my knees in front of the bench while crying my eyes out. This was all my fault. Words couldn’t describe how horrible I felt. I got back up and spent a good two hours looking for Lea in the woods. Then it got dark, and the brisk autumn air was now starting to get colder as the sun was going down. When I got back to my house, my mom was crying again; this time she stopped the second I walked in the door.
“Where were you?” She yelled with a panicked look slowly turning to one of anger.
“I-I was looking for Lea.” I stuttered, slightly scared by the sudden outburst my mother was displaying.
“We thought you had left us like she did!” my mom yelled slowly getting quieter, until the last word was a whisper. She began to cry again, and embraced me in a hug. It felt so good to know that she still cared at least a little. So there we stood in each others arms just crying. That night I was able to sleep, and almost forgot that Lea was missing when I woke up the next morning. Almost.

Everyday the cops call and tell us the same news. I wish that they would just stop calling us. I wish that instead of getting our hopes up just to be let down every time the phone rings, that they would only call if they found her. And that’s exactly what they did. The calls came fewer and fewer until Thursday night. The phone rang and the caller ID was the police station. It continued to ring, but I just stood there. I couldn’t make myself pick up the phone, I was frozen. My mother barreled past me and quickly answered it. Although I couldn’t hear what the person on the other line was saying, I could tell by watching my mom.
“Hello?” She asked shakily when she answered the phone.She then continued with a couple mhm’s, and yes sirs. This continued for a couple minutes, but then I watched as her face crumpled and her eyes welled up. The next thing I know, the phone is on the ground and my mother is running to the living room to go talk to my dad. Again, I found myself frozen, not knowing whether I was welcome in the living the room or not, and I couldn’t get any information from the police officer, because from where I stood I could hear the buzzing that indicated the call had been ended from the other line. I slowly walked into the living room. My dad was hugging my mom in the middle of the room.
“What’s the news?” I asked with my voice barely above a whisper.
“It was a car.” My mom’s muffled voice responded. They were looking at their phone when it happened. The moment the words left her lips my knees gave out and I was on the floor. No, this couldn’t be true. I couldn’t think straight, and the room was spinning. I was crying so hard that my throat hurt. I just didn’t know what to do. I was then embraced by both my mom and dad. They were trying to calm me down. When I was finally able to take my volume down about 20 notches, we got in the car and drove to the police station. We were aloud to see her body, but I couldn’t make myself do it. I wanted to remember her how I know her, not what she looked like now. Instead of following my parents to go see her, I trailed after the police officer to go see her things. That is when my heart shattered even more. In the bag that she had with her was a picture. Not just any picture though, the picture of the two of us sitting on the bench laughing on Easter morning. She was wearing her blue and purple dress, and I was wearing my pink one. I broke down again, full-out balling on the ground. I couldn’t stop, this was just too much for me. How could I do this to her? Why did this happen to my baby sister. Everything in me was aching. That should’ve been me, not her.

My name is Amia, and I am the reason my sister is dead.

1 comment:

  1. This turned out exactly as you had hoped -- incredibly sad and full of regret. I really enjoyed reading this. Your first and last lines were perfect echoes.