Sixteen-year-old Yasmine Emori Sanders was getting ready to start at a new high school. She recently moved in with her sister Charlie after her mother's death. The death ultimately took a toll on her. She didn't eat or sleep for weeks. Her mother wa...
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October 5th, 2024
Charlie stirred, slowly waking up to the faint sounds of the hospital machines beeping. The sterile smell of the room filled her nose, and as her eyes fluttered open, she saw Yasmine, slumped in a chair next to her bed, asleep. Her sister's face was soft, her brow no longer furrowed with worry like it had been the night before.
For a moment, Charlie just watched her, feeling the weight of all the things she had hidden for so long. She knew Yasmine had no idea why she kept spiraling, why she couldn't stop drowning herself in alcohol, and why she couldn't be the sister Yasmine needed her to be. Yasmine didn't know that the night their mother died wasn't just an accident. It was a result of everything Charlie had been carrying, everything she was too afraid to speak about.
Mom knew. She tried to protect me. She always tried. But it wasn't enough.
Charlie's thoughts spiraled as memories of their mother flooded her mind. She missed her so much it physically hurt sometimes. Her mom was the only person who ever knew what happened. The only one who tried to console her, even when she didn't have the full strength to confront the truth head-on.
Charlie closed her eyes, biting her lip to keep from crying. I want to do better, she thought, her chest tightening with emotion. I want to be the sister Yasmine needs, but I can't. I'm too broken.
She thought back to the countless nights she would sit with their mom, confiding in her about everything. Her mother's arms around her, her voice soft and comforting, always telling her, "It's going to be okay, baby." But even as her mother said those words, Charlie could always see the pain in her eyes.
Their mom had found out the truth too late—about the man Charlie had feared most: their father. Yasmine never knew. She was too young. But Charlie, she had been the one who endured the worst of him, the twisted things he did when no one was watching. And when their mom finally learned what had been happening, she lost control. The night she died, she was chasing him down, determined to confront him, determined to protect Charlie at any cost.
And I never told anyone. I never told Yasmine. The guilt was unbearable. Charlie felt like it was her fault, all of it. Their mom wouldn't have been in that car that night if it wasn't for her. If she had just been stronger, if she had just kept quiet, their mom would still be alive.
Tears slipped down Charlie's face as she lay in the hospital bed. She wanted so badly to be the sister Yasmine thought she could be, but the weight of her guilt and trauma made it impossible. She was too far gone, too shattered by the past to pull herself back up.
Yasmine stirred in her sleep, shifting slightly in the chair, and Charlie wiped her tears away quickly. She didn't want Yasmine to see her like this. She didn't want her sister to know just how broken she was.
But as she lay there, Charlie realized that hiding from the truth wasn't helping anyone—not her, not Yasmine. Maybe one day, when she was ready, she would tell Yasmine the truth. Maybe then, she could finally start to heal.
