Waiting for the Storm to Pass

   Staring aimlessly at the ceiling of my minuscule bedroom, I was immensely aware of the pounding of rain against the glass window. Thunder roared outside and I flinched; the room glowing on and off with the illuminating strikes of lightning that followed soon after. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing that the sky would be at peace, but a loud banging noise makes me dart them open. I quickly sit up and jump off my bed, the warm leaving me instantly as the cold hardwood floor bites at my feet.
​    I rush out of my room and hurry in the direction of the sound. As I walk, wind rushes into the house, assaulting my skin with goosebumps and making my body shiver. I pick up the pace and turn a corner, immediately stumbling over something. A large black suitcase lies on the wet tile floor while rain and wind bellow through the open front door. My eyes widen and I leap over the suitcase, pushing on the heavy wooden door. I shove it as hard as I can but the wind works against me, pushing me backwards and making my long black braid fly in my face. From outside raindrops pelt at my body, glueing my shirt to my chest and clouding my vision. For gods sake, would this thing just close already? Suddenly, I feel someone next to me with their hands out, helping me slam the door shut. I lean against the door, the strain in my arms gone, and breathe a sigh of relief.
​   I look up at the person that helped me and scowl in disgust, "So, you're back".
​My older sister frowns at my reaction and looks down, playing with her hands. "Yeah, I am," she says quietly.
​I look at her. Whereas my features are all sharp and hard, hers are full of gentle curves and soft lines. She looks almost exactly how she did before she left. Her hair is the same chocolate brown color, cascading in waves that are just about an inch longer than before. Her eyes are the same hazel color they always were, but now they are filled with sorrow as she gazes at me. And she still wears those dreadful pastel-colored oversized sweaters I used to always tease her about.
​​​​But she's so different.
​​​     "You've been gone for three years".
​ She squirms, looking incredibly uncomfortable. I see the pained expression on her face as she looks at me, "I know."
​​​​                    "You never called".
​​​​    ​                        "I know".
​​        "You didn't tell me you were going to leave".
​​​​                    She sighs, "I know".
​"Why did you leave?" I ask, hoping she doesn't hear the desperation in my tone.
​​​​           She's silent.
​​​​​ "Why?" I hiss.
​ She closes her eyes, as if regaining her composure. "You wouldn't understand."
​ I let out at bitter laugh, raising an eyebrow and crossing my arms, "Oh yeah?" I straighten my back and look her straight in the eyes, "Try me".
​​​​She just shakes her head.
​ I make a sound of exasperation, frustrated, "Okay, then why are you back?"
​ I clench my jaw hard, "Why did you come back then? Huh? Why?!" I'm shouting by the end of it and my voice cuts through the vast silence in the house along with the soft pitter-patter of the rain outside.
​ She looks me in the eyes, holding back tears. Her voice is strained with emotion as she says, "To make things right".
​    I turn around, stomping away. I get back to my room and slam the door shut, jumping into bed. Another strike of thunder sounds and I pull the covers over my head, waiting for the storm to pass.