It's just me and my second sister. She has grown depressed because her twin brother died but at least his favorite meal was his last. We should've known that he was going to die, Mother never makes any of our favorite meals for lunch. We regret not noticing it but how could we honestly? We're too busy keeping them happy. We can't blame ourselves, we couldn't change the fate of his death even if we even tried. We had to act like their naive little children and if we acted any different we'd have the same fate as the others.
Mother made me a treat before dinner, she wanted to cheer me up and it did. Or at least so she thought. But again I'm Mother's little cinnamon roll and I could do no wrong in her or anyone else's eyes. It was a good thing, I knew that no one would ever try to kill me. Hurt me? Maybe, kill me? Never. I was the sweetest little girl in the world, so naive to the real cruel world I was perfect. I was 'Daddy's little princess and Mommy's little girl.' My sissy was the 'World's perfect teenager,' head cheerleader, top of her class, student council president, popular with everyone, and a star pupil. I knew she never wanted to do or be any of those things but I told her everyday in my own words that "I was proud that she was my big sissy and she was the best at everything and I wanted to be just like her!" She knew that I really meant that I was proud that she's made it this far in our 'situation' and to keep going no matter what in order for her to live.
...
I found her dead one morning, she died in her sleep, she was laying on one single pillow. She was suffocated by one of her pillows, Sissy always laid on two pillows and not one. I started crying and I ran to Mother yelling "Sissy won't wake up!" She sent that man to look while she held me in her arms. He came back with a sad look on his face confirming she was indeed dead, Mother started crying and that man hugged the both of us. Suffocation.
