Sweet Siblings

the escape

The house was still, the usual hum of noise replaced by the gentle ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. May lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the soft glow of the moon spilling through the curtains. Her heart was heavy, and her mind wouldn't quiet down.

Lucy's mocking voice echoed in her head, her father's weak laughter replaying over and over. No matter how many times she blinked, she couldn't stop the tears from spilling over. Her pillow was already damp, but she wasn't sobbing—not out loud, anyway. The tears fell quietly, like they always did. That's how it had always been for her. Cry in the shadows, behind closed doors, where no one could see.

She turned onto her side, pulling the blanket up to her chin, hoping sleep would come and wash away the ache in her chest. But sleep wouldn't come. Not tonight. Not after that dinner.

Lucy's words burned in her memory, a cruel reminder of her place in the family: the outsider. The one who didn't belong .

"Stick to the group stuff, okay?" Lucy had said it like it was a joke, but May knew better. It wasn't funny. It never had been. No matter how hard she tried, she was always left in the shadow of her sisters—especially Lucy, the golden girl. The one who always shined the brightest, the one who knew how to say all the right things, and the one who knew how to hurt May the most.

May wiped her eyes, sitting up in bed, her heart pounding. She couldn't do this anymore. Not the constant jabs, not the silent suffering, not the feeling of always being *less*.

She looked around her room—at the posters on the walls, the guitar leaning against the corner, her sketchbook half-open on her desk. None of it felt like hers anymore. Not the music, not the fame, not even the room itself. It was just part of the life she had been forced into, a life where she was never good enough.

With a deep breath, May swung her legs out of bed and stood. Her heart raced as she walked to her closet, grabbing a small backpack from the top shelf. Her hands trembled slightly as she opened drawers, pulling out clothes and shoving them into the bag. She didn't need much—just enough to get away.

Her fingers brushed over the worn pages of her journal, and she hesitated. This had been her only real outlet, the place where she could pour out everything she felt but could never say. She slipped the journal into the bag, zipping it up quickly as if to seal away all her pain.

May's heart pounded as she quietly opened her door and peeked down the hallway. The house was dark, and the only sound was the faint ticking of the clock. Everyone was asleep—her father, Lucy, and even Rui, who had probably shut herself off the way she always did. None of them would notice she was gone.

The thought made May's heart sink even deeper. They wouldn't notice her absence—just like they barely noticed her presence. She'd always been invisible to them, a background character in their perfect little family. But not anymore.

She tiptoed down the hallway, her footsteps light on the floorboards. Every creak felt like it would give her away, but no one stirred. Reaching the front door, she paused for a moment, taking a shaky breath.

This was it.

She slipped into her sneakers, grabbing her hoodie from the coat rack, and carefully opened the door, the cool night air hitting her face. She glanced over her shoulder one last time, as if half-expecting someone to come running after her. But no one did.

The emptiness hit her hard. Even now, with her heart screaming for someone to care, the silence answered her.

She stepped outside, closing the door softly behind her. The night sky stretched above her, vast and quiet, with the stars twinkling like distant dreams she could never quite reach. For a moment, she stood there, taking it all in. The freedom, the space, the quiet. It was so different from the suffocating house she had just left.

But she wasn't free yet. Not really.

With trembling fingers, May pulled out a scrap of paper from her pocket. She had written it earlier, after dinner, when the pain had been fresh, and she knew she couldn't stay another night. The note was short, just a few lines. She didn't even know if they'd care enough to read it.

'I'm sorry. I can't stay here anymore. I need to find myself. Don't worry about me.'

That was it. Simple. Short. Honest. She folded it and left it on the doorstep, hoping, just for a second, that when they found it, they would finally realize how much she had been hurting.

May turned and started walking down the street, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She didn't have a plan. She didn't know where she was going. But she knew she couldn't stay. She needed to find herself—who she really was, away from the constant expectations and the endless comparisons.

For the first time in a long while, May felt something like hope stir in her chest. It was small, fragile, but it was there. The stars above seemed brighter, and the quiet streets felt welcoming, as if the world was finally opening up for her.

She walked for hours, the city lights fading behind her as she ventured further away from home. The cool night air kissed her cheeks, and with each step, the weight on her shoulders seemed to lighten just a bit. She wasn't sure what tomorrow would bring, but for the first time, she didn't feel trapped. She didn't feel like the outsider anymore.

May had run away, yes—but she was running towards something too. Freedom, peace, a life where she wasn't defined by her sisters or her father. A life where she could just be.

And for now, that was enough.

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