Skin & Bone

We sat in the living room. There was nothing but silence. An eerie silence. I looked round the room, and fiercely wiped the tears from my cheeks. My mascara had probably ran. I knew I looked a mess, I didn't even need to look in the mirror to prove that. I looked at my parents. Mum was sobbing, dad was crying, with his arm draped around mum. My older brother, Joe,  was crying, his head in his hands. Oh no. Tears coming again. They poured down my cheeks, and my nose began to run. Joe came over to me, and we hugged for a long time. I held on to him tight, as if he was just going to disappear like my twin sister did.

My twin sister, Amy, had been battling cancer for four years. It had been so tough for her, it hadn't been easy, and our family had been pulled apart and in pieces because of it. It had been hard for me too, seeing her in pain, I cried every time I saw her. Every time I stroked her bald head, which had once been covered with the most beautiful long, blonde ringlets. Her eyes. So bright, so blue. And the way, despite everything what was happening to her, the way she was always so happy and positive, and looked on the bright side. And, I was never going to see her again. She died three weeks ago. Cancer is evil. Evil. Why can't cancer get cancer and die?

Today had been Amy's funeral. We were all in pieces. Everyone who knew Amy had been there, and everyone was crying. I watched her coffin, laden with white roses. She loved white roses. We wore them in our hair for our holy communion. I remember that day like it was yesterday. Me and Amy had matching dresses. We had both been so excited. 

I clung on to Joe harder, and bawled, remembering my twin made my heart ache. "It's okay, it's okay". Joe's voice was trying to calm me, but right now, nothing could calm my feelings. I let myself fall back on the sofa, and I grabbed a pillow and cried into it. The last time I had seen Amy was a Sunday evening. We had brought her mum's special roast dinner to eat and I had talked to her about getting better. "I will get better, Sophie. I will. Soon, I'll be out of this hospital, and back in to those boring history lessons at school with you! Until then though, I'm enjoying the hospital's lovely eggs and toast for breakfast, which beats the soggy cornflakes at home!", Amy had said.                       

All these memories make me miss her. I can't stop thinking about her. I got up from the sofa, and looked over at mum and dad. Mum was staring into space, her skin was pale. The dark circles under her eyes stood out boldly. She hadn't been sleeping lately. "Cup of tea, anyone? I'll put on the kettle". I said, trying to make my voice sound bright. But, it came out like a croak. 

There was no reply. Tea for one, I guess.