"Em, I get it, okay? You don't want to be here, I get it! But I do, and you owe it to me to not make this miserable for me."
I whipped my head around to look at Caroline, confusion written clear
across my face. "I owe you?" I asked, my voice feeble. I accepted yelling; it was now a second nature. I always took the things people said to heart, no matter how false they may be. I had been labeled weak because of it. I took that, too. I like to think it actually made me stronger, always going down without a fight. Knowing the things I needed to change about myself made pleasing people so much easier.
"Yes, Emily." Caroline rolled her eyes. "Yes, because if it wasn't for you, Mom and Dad would still be here, and we wouldn't be moving from town to town to find work."
That really struck home. The one thing I never coped well with was people blaming me for Mom and Dad's death. Caroline knew that, too, and she used this to fuel my fire. She wanted a fight, but I wouldn't give her one. She always wanted me to put up a fight, but I never did.
"God. You never stand up for yourself; I don't know why I had expected you to this time. No wonder Mom and Dad never wanted you."
Tears sprung to my eyes and I hurriedly wiped them away. I stood up, knocking my chair over in the process. "How can you just stand there and say that?" I nearly yelled, surprising both myself and Caroline.
"What kind of sister are you?"
"What kind of daughter are you?" she fires back.
"Shut up!" I yell. I'd thought about running away a lot, ever since Mom and Dad died, but I'd never had the reason or the guts to do it.
But in that millisecond, I had both and I was ready to do it. "Well, thanks for being the perfect sister you always promised to be," I
spat. Hurt flashed in Caroline's eyes, but as soon as it appeared, it was gone. I searched her face again for any sign of regret, anything, but she was blank, stone-faced. I ran out, slamming the door as hard
as I could behind me. As I began to run, the cold December air hit me, causing me to shiver. And I didn't even have a jacket. God.
YOU ARE READING
confessions of a murderer
Fiksi Remaja'I know now. I know what it means to pull the trigger on someone. I used to think it was just an expression, but now I know the extent of those words. I pulled the trigger on them. That's almost as bad as me being a murderer.'
