The Night She Left

10 Years Earlier

That morning, I woke up knowing something was wrong. I don't know how I knew. I woke up, and there was a pit of dread already forming in my stomach.

I remember climbing out of bed very quickly and sliding my slippers on. I was 8 at the time, Lily was 6.

I grabbed my pink butterfly robe from the back of my desk chair and pulled my hair into a messy ponytail.

I don't know how I knew to check Lily's room, but I immediately ran to her room. I slipped quietly by my parent's room, which sounded like...well...they were having some fun. 8 year old me definitely didn't know what was happening, but now, at 18, it was definitely sex.

I knocked. No response. I knocked again. Nothing. I don't know why this shocked me, Lily was never known to answer the door immediately.

Concerned, I opened the door, hoping to see my sister's sleeping figure in bed. I squinted into the dark room and I flicked on the light...

And screamed

And screamed

And screamed

I remember the crimson blood splattered everywhere. On the floor, on the ceiling, even on her bathroom door; which was all the way on the other side of the room. I also saw the worst thing an 8-year-old could see in her sister's bedroom. A tiny pinky finger.

I screamed some more. At this point, I heard my parents shuffling around, probably trying to find some clothes. I ran over to the window, curtains flapping in the early morning wind. More blood was streaming down and out the window.

My parents appeared in the doorway. My mother let out a devastated sob and my father screamed out in shock.

I remember my mother collapsing to the ground. My father running over to scoop me up.

I didn't know what happened at that time. But now I'm 18. And I know everything. At least I thought I knew everything. She was beaten, then kidnapped straight out of our home.

Until she showed up on our porch.