Mister Popular's Little Sister

nineteen: everything

nineteen: everything

⠀⠀⠀⠀I sit on Conner's bed looking him in the eyes. His eyebrows knit in confusion as he has no idea what I'm about to tell him.

"I probably should start from the beginning," I sigh preparing to relive all the bad memories I tried to bury once more. He remains quiet letting me talk.

"It started about two and a half years ago, I guess you could say." I swallow my tears that we're starting to form. "There was this man that would call my mom telling her what she was wearing or doing that day." I take a deep breath to calm my fast beating heart.

"She told the police, but they couldn't track the number as it was a burner phone. They said that if there is no evident threat, the she should be fine." I purse my lips breathing in to control my temper. This part always makes me angry.

"Well, the calls continued and eventually he told my mom that he would be seeing her very soon, which freaked her out, but had no idea what to do. The police wouldn't do anything as the man said it over the phone so there wasn't any 'evidence'.

"They thought she was crying wolf, which aggravated me because I was there for a few of the calls. Well, a few months after this started, I came home after school one day to find my mom on the floor of her room," tears prick my eyes.

I look at my watch that's resting on my left wrist–nearly four o'clock. Mom should be home by now. I drop my bag onto the cream couch before walking into the kitchen. I notice that she isn't sitting at the table with an after school snack like usual.

That's weird.

"Mom," I call but only silence greets me. My stomach becomes uneasy. Mom is always home and always answers when I call.

I make my way up the stairs and look in my room to see if she' trying to scare me. I find my purple painted room empty. I proceed down the hallway to find the bathroom and grandma's room to be empty.

I slowly approach the last door, mom's room. The door is slightly cracked open and I peek in to find the bed an absolute mess. The comfort on the ground and the sheets rumpled.

My glance falls to the floor where I barely find her bare foot. Pushing open the door, I slowly step in and my eyes land on her full body. Her arms sprawled above her head.

That's when I notice something very unusual, bruising on her neck. The only time I've ever seen bruising like that was on cop shows when someone's been strangled.

My heart drops to me feet when I realize she's lying there still. Her chest isn't rising and falling like it should be. Still in shock, I grab the home phone and dial 9-1-1.

I purse my lips and close my eyes trying to calm myself, but the painful memory is too hard. Conner wraps an arm around me comforting me.

Taking a shaky, deep breath, I continue.

"She had bruising around her neck, and she looked at peace. Her eyes were closed and her body laid absolutely still. And I knew. I knew that she was gone and I knew it was him."

The anger boiling inside of me at the thought that the police did nothing.

"When the police arrived, I yelled at them. They knew, too. They had said she was crying wolf, but for six whole months the man would call her. We thought about moving, but we know he could follow us."