The Convict

The Anger

POV: Dakota

For as long as I can remember I've always had an insatiable anger inside of me. I've never been just happy, just content, just okay. I think I was born angry. Angry that my parents were impatient and inconsiderate people. Angry that my sister was looked down upon and seen as slow and imperfect. Angry that to my family I was nothing but the pretty one.

I used to be very good at hiding this anger. Growing up in a family like mine, it became very easy to suppress my emotions, my needs, my wants. They only had time for one daughter, not two. Once Carolina was born, I became completely irrelevant.

Be quiet Dakota.

Get over it, Dakota.

Grow up, Dakota.

Get your sister her medication, Dakota.

Take your sister for a walk Dakota.

Take your sister to her appointment Dakota.

Take care of your sister from now on Dakota.

It's the least you can do. We are tired Dakota, you deal with it.

It's hard being the kid whose parents aren't parenting. The kid forced to grow up too soon. Forced to be the responsible one, the mature one, the selfless one.

Sorry, Dakota, we can't celebrate your birthday this year, your sister comes first. Sorry Dakota, no Christmas presents this year, your sister comes first. You can't go to prom Dakota, who will take care of Carolina? You can't go out with your friends Dakota, not unless you take your sister.

Every turn at every corner of my life was just another disappointment.

Every milestone ruined or overshadowed.

Every achievement downplayed or overlooked.

Every cry for help, unheard.

Year by year, day by day, the anger built. Building and building, bubbling over like a pan on a stove, screaming like the steam shooting out of a kettle. Hold it in, hold it back, bite your tongue. Don't be dramatic Dakota. Behave yourself, Dakota, now is not the time.

I never directed my anger at my sister. I used to hate her but quickly realized none of this was her fault. She was in the same sinking boat as me. Even though she had all the attention, it didn't mean she was any happier than me. She didn't want that attention. Didn't want people staring at her, judging her, talking about her. Treating her like a hurt dog. She hated it.

Soon my sister became my whole world. If all that was meant for us was disappointment, at least we had each other. She understood me, and I understood her. I got to fall in love with the wonderful girl under all that pain and anger. See her for who she was, not just her disability. And even though I was so angry all the time, she made it bearable. Made me laugh when all I wanted to do was cry. Made me smile when my lips forgot how. Gave me a purpose, a cause worth fighting for, worth living for. She was everything to me.

I'll never forget the day I took her from my parents, the day the anger finally boiled over. It started out just like any other day. I got up and helped Carolina get ready for school. Brushing her hair, finding her an outfit to wear, that's when she stopped me.

Told me it was pajama day at school and that she wanted to wear pajamas to school. The bullying had already been going on for a while by then. So, I asked who told her that. I always verified everything after the last time someone told her something turned out to be a cruel prank. But it was on the school calendar, so I knew it was true and I let her go in her pajamas. When we walked downstairs to get breakfast Mom took one look at Carolina and lost it.