It was almost Christmas, her short days often spent looking out the window, eyeing the shoveled driveway as if expecting the biggest reveal of her life. When she wasn't in school, she sat by the window, unmoving and unwilling to answer to anything.
Willow became immobile every day, only leaving her chair to eat, sleep, and use the bathroom. Whilst she was still, her twin would run around with Alex, who was set on torturing him in a quiet way that was disguised as playing. Emma would watch, now being a strong 11, leaning on the wall near the door.
Emma's arms would be crossed, her gaze dripping venom as she noticed how her young sister wouldn't move. She would stay still, moving for nobody.
"She's not coming back, y'know." Emma muttered, catching Willow's attention. She snapped her gaze quickly, her blonde hair swishing with the motion of her head. Jealousy coursed through Emma's veins. Willow resembled their mother to the dime, with her green eyes and round face, while Emma resembled their father with her dark, thick coarse hair and penetrating dark eyes. Though, she was never jealous because of her own attractiveness, it was the love that was stolen from her; the attention that no longer came around.
"What?" Willow tilted her head, hands folded in her lap. It was envy that coursed through her, burning her from the inside out. Emma huffed, making her way over to where Willow sat.
"She's not coming back." She repeated. It was almost a treat to watch Willow's face fall, a sedative to the fire burning within her.
"But-" Willow muttered, glancing back out the window.
Dusk was a simple slip into darkness, and the snow was the thing making up for the lack of light as it fell over the city. It made the faint light inside the house homey, accompanied with the soft smell of dinner cooking, it was a place Emma never wanted to leave; a cocoon of intimate safety.
"She didn't come back for thanksgiving or when you prayed." Willow's gaze fell down to her hands in her lap, her lips turning into a frown.
"What makes you think she'd come back now?"
Alex dashed across the living room, quickly bolting for the kitchen, one of Sammy's belongings in his hands. Trailing behind in a desperate manner was the owner of the object, his hand outstretched as he tried to reach the thing in Alex's hand. Then, he stopped. Sammy's eyes landed on Willow who was curled up on her usual chair, Emma standing over her.
He stood there, fists at his sides, watching as Emma spoke to Willow, which pulled her gaze further down, her body seemingly crumbling into itself. Something was set off in his tiny body, the inexplainable feeling raging like a tiny volcano inside his chest. It was the way his sister crumbled, how Emma stood over her like she was the one responsible for the turmoil unfolding inside of his sister. Sammy could see it on Willow's face, the way her lip gently curled into a pout, eyebrows knitting together as tears began to spring into her eyes, though he could tell she was trying hard to not let herself spill in front of her older sister; it made him completely forget about the thing Alex took from him.
That night, when Willow helped Sammy take out their contacts, he watched her curiously, keeping on eye on her as she performed the routine they picked up after their mother left. The thought stung him, the memory almost bringing a tear to his eye, but Willow always remained positive, explaining that what their mother was doing was for the better; for both of them.
Soon, Sammy was in bed, tucking himself in, staring up at the ceiling. He remained awake, feeling his body remain alert while his mind started to wander. Then, out of the buzzing of their room fan, Sammy heard sniffles and small sobs.
He glanced over the top of his bed, down to the floor where Willow's bunk was. The floor was dark, making his heart thump crazily as his fear started to creep up into him. Sammy considered staying put, bringing his knees to his chest, huffing gently. Then, he glanced over the guard rail again, the darkness of the floor keeping him put. Another small and gentle sound of a quiet wail.
YOU ARE READING
The Grean Household
Romance"It was a mistake..." She told her mother, folding her hands into each other. "Marrying him..." Her mother said nothing, she simply sat there as her only daughter stood across from her, on the verge of collapsing from bruised ribs and cracked shins...
