"Stay out of my room!" my sister had always told me. She never gave me a reason why, or what was in there. She had always just said, "Out of my room!"
Justine was not the best sister, but she was far from the worst. I did love her. She was a great sister, and way too young to die.
Yes. My sister Justine died in a car accident last week. She was the first one under the age of 25 to die in my town in almost 50 years. My mother didn't cry. It seemed she was too sad for tears. My dad cared, but not as much as he should have. Mom just told me, "Chin up, Bryan. She's happy now," with a sad smile. But I didn't believe that.
Heaven had always been a sad place for me, from when I was three when my hamster Phillip died, to when I was eight and my great aunt Jasmine died. Heaven always seemed like such a sad place. People just wandering around, wondering what happened to them, wondering where their families and friends are, just... wondering. Even now that Justine was there, even though she could brighten up a room with a smile (although I would never tell her that, and now I never will), Heaven still is a sad place.
Anyway, Justine had never, not once, let me into her room. Not even to look past the door. Well, I understand, She was much more mature than me. I mean, I am 14, and she was 19. She probably had, like, 50 boyfriends. She was also really, really pretty.
After the funeral and after the tears were shed, my mother came up to me. "Bryan," she said, "I think it's time for you to know."
"Know what?" I had no idea what my mom was talking about.
"Just... go look in your sister's room. I promise, everything will be okay. Just... please go look in Justine's room."
I still had no idea what she was talking about, but I walked up the stairs. I suddenly noticed some things I hadn't before-- there was a faint glow coming from Justine's room. There was also a slight... hum? Why was my sister's room humming and glowing? I took another tentative step towards my sister's room.
Suddenly, I felt something churning in the pit of my stomach. Nausea? No. Nervousness? Nope. Fear. It was fear, boiling in my belly. I was scared of my sister's room. I had no idea why, really, but I was. It gave off some sort of creepy vibe that just scared the crap out of me. I don't know why.
I took another step toward the door, and finally my hand was on the doorknob. It was hot. Why would it be hot? I slowly turned the knob and opened the door.
I stepped inside. The door shut behind me.
YOU ARE READING
Let Go
أدب المراهقينA collection of short stories about death featuring I Lost Count and many others. Funny, serious, sad, everything's in here!