Short Stories

The Yellow Dress - a short story

TW: mentions of suicide

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I was sitting on my bed. My blinds were open and the morning light was shining through the windows. I was in my pyjamas: a black shirt-like hoodie and navy pants that had grey and white dogs on them with either solid red or red with white striped bandanas around their necks.

My mom was sitting on the bed in front of me. She was wearing her pyjamas, a loose-fitted black t-shirt and pink and black pants.

My sister was sitting beside me on the side of the bed where my nightstand was. She was wearing a beautiful yellow dress with her hair down perfectly, slightly curled. The dress matched the base sheet of my bed and the fitted sheet was a colour slightly lighter than her brown hair.

My mom was talking to me. She was telling me that Isabelle had died the previous night. I was confused because my sister was sitting right next to me.

My mom showed me a video taken by CTV news. It was nighttime. It looked like it must've been just after 2 AM. There was a huge crowd gathered outside of the brick wall and black gates that led to the hospital at the top of the small hill.

Some people were crying and others were in shock. Everyone here were people who knew and/or loved Izzie, even strangers because I didn't recognize some people. The paramedics were standing in front of the closed gate with my sister strapped in a stretcher. The only thing showing was her head. Her eyes were closed and she looked so peaceful. My mom was standing right beside her in a black jacket, her hair perfectly brushed, although I doubt she would have brushed it. She, along with the newscasters and front-line workers, wasn't crying. She just had a numb, but sad expression on her face.

My mom never, ever cried in front of others, especially in public. She was strong like that, like a queen. Poised and composed, showing little emotion.

The gates opened and they started walking up the driveway to the hospital.

The video ended and I looked up at my mom. It still hadn't registered in me because my sister's head was outside of the bag. I looked at my sister who was still sitting beside me.

"What happened?" I asked again, looking at my mom.

My mom was careful with her words, but she spoke them in a truthful way that didn't sugarcoat it. "She killed herself last night."

I looked at my sister again, still confused. "But she's right here." Yellow dress, brown hair, perfect face. She looked like she was glowing. She looked perfect. Cleaned up and all.

Even her mascara. No matter what was going on, she rarely left the house without wearing mascara. If she had to pick two products that she could only wear, it would be lip gloss and mascara.

I looked at my mom again and she left the room. I ran after her, opened my door and said, "where's Katie?"

My mom, already gone from sight said, "she killed herself".

I closed my door and walked back to the right side of the bed near my windows and looked down at the bed.

Katie was lying on the bed, almost perfectly blending in with the sheets. Her hair was covering her face.

She looked like she was sleeping. She looked like she was dead.

I could see the outline of her body, but she quickly faded away and then that's when it hit me.

My sister... was dead.

Dead.

A perfect angel, her, had been sitting next to me to say goodbye, to help me transition from having her in my life to not having her in my life.

The feelings of grief, sadness, fear, maybe even a bit of anger filled my body.

Hurt, pain, the worst kind of pain filled my body and I let out a horrifying cry. A desperate cry. A cry for help. Help to understand how I had gotten here.

My sister was dead. Dead! Dead!!

I climbed on my bed to get to the other side and picked up the phone to call my best friend, Alessandra. She was the one I needed.

I need Allie. Even my mind was crying. Its own voice merged with mine. The same voice that I hear when I talk.

I was screaming and crying in my mind.

This couldn't be real.

I picked up the phone, my best friend on my mind, and I woke up with a yell.

I didn't dare move.