Bitten

Chapter Five

     After blinking away the tears from the sight of my old bedroom, I carefully climbed toward the next window, toward Jillian’s old room. The light blue walls were now holding framed pictures, and a mirror. I remembered back when I was six, and when Jillian was eleven. She’d had almost every inch of her walls covered with NSYNC posters. And as the years went by, so did the trends—from Disney Princesses, to boy bands, and to Hollywood actors she’d claimed were “totally hot”—and I’d never understood why they’d meant so much to her. Right now, seeing the room the way it is, it has a mature setting.

     It totally fit the now twenty-four year old Jillian, who is now currently residing in it from what I can tell.

     The door opens, and—speak of the devil—Jillian appeared. She looked exactly as I remembered. Her darkening blond hair is hanging low, and it had appeared to have grown a few inches. It is now below her shoulders, and almost within reach of her waist. Her statuesque physique looked the same, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel like there’s something…off about her. Her face now looks, hallow, like she hadn’t eaten in days, semi dark circles were under her blue eyes, and they appeared to have lost some light.

     Right behind her followed…my mother. Like Jackie, she too looked so different than what she looked like two years ago. The once light blond hair is now showing gray roots, which told me she didn’t have time to visit the salon like she used to, and she also appeared to have put on some weight. I wondered if the “depression” did this to her…that is, if she does have this condition.

     No! I thought to myself. I won’t let those silly rumors get the best of me, even if it came from a friend who heard it from another friend. I quickly swallowed the lump in my throat in time to hear them talking.

     “I got an interview tomorrow. Hopefully, they’ll let me teach despite that I’ve had only half a month’s experience.” Jillian said, her tone hinted excitement.

     I watched as Mom’s face lit up. “Oh Jillybean, I’m so proud of you.” She squealed, and I held back the tears after hearing my sister’s old nickname. “I’ve got my finger’s crossed.” She added before eventually leaving the room.

     “I’m going to need it.” Jillian called before the door was shut with a soft click.

     I was prepared to follow Mom, when Jillian made her way towards the mirror. I quietly observed as she carefully kept checking her reflection—in other words, checking her figure, which is unlike my big sister. From what I recalled, Jillian is the kind of person who never cared about her appearance. She wasn’t the trend setter, and she doesn’t pay much attention to said trends; she wears whatever she feels comfortable in.

     “They’ll never hire me looking like this.” She muttered, her tone completely upset and forlorn.

     Before I could even take the time to deconstruct her sentiment, Jillian took her forefinger, and stuck it down her throat. Then, she dashed into the bathroom.

     This can’t be happening! Why in the world would Jillian be bulimic? When did this happen? Before or after my “disappearance?” Why would she even do this to begin with? More importantly, what had happened to the big sister that I’d looked up to throughout all of these years?

     The sound of Jillian vomiting was—in an extremely weird way—nauseating, if not horrifying.

     To escape this horrible sound, and the abhorrent thoughts that came with it, I maneuvered my way around the rooftop to another window. Inside there are the same baby pink walls with various posters—the majority being the Jonas Brothers and Justin Bieber—covering it. There was a desk, a dresser, and a bed. In that bed, I could see Clarice, sleeping soundly. Her blond head rested on a pink pillow, and her face looked peaceful.