The Silent Sister

Two

That day, you didn't come home. Mom and Dad thought you were out partying, and were sure you would be back within a day or two. I knew better. On the days that you were actually out with friends, even if you failed to make an appearance during the day, you would always check in with me at night. Just to let me know you were okay.

That night, I didn't sleep. I waited, and waited, and waited for you to swing by-- for any sign that you were all right; but you never came. There was no familiar tap on my windowpane, no quiet whisper in the dark alerting me to your presence. Nothing. Nothing but silence came to visit me that night.

You didn't come home the next day, either. It was summer, so there was no chance of catching a glimpse of you at school. You could be anywhere. Worry began to shred my insides, and I ended up pacing back and forth in my room for the entire day.

I finally sat down again at exactly 12:07 AM the next morning. Steepling my fingers under my chin and closing my eyes, I tried to dig deeper into my memory.

Painstakingly, I went through our conversation from the night before you left, turning it over and over in my mind-- searching for any sort of clue.

Per the norm, you had come in through my window. But that night, you looked me in the eye, and it was like I was seeing a vase breaking in slow motion; watching the fissures slowly etch their ways up the sides of the glass. There was something wrong, without a doubt. With a eerily calm voice, you told me you wanted to sleep in my room.

I unrolled the sleeping bag we kept in my closet, and gave you a pillow with a plain white case. You always told me that you couldn't sleep on a patterned pillowcase, claiming them to be too distracting. So I was careful to give you the blank one.

For a while, we both laid there in the dark, each absorbed in our own thoughts. But neither of us slept. We both could sense something was coming: like a storm about to break. I even began to contemplate whether or not I should get up and close the window, in case of an actual storm.

"Edie?" you asked before I could decide. I had never heard that much anxiety in your voice before-- that was supposed to be my job. I was the anxious one. Not you. You were my brave sister; nothing could sway you.

Or so I thought.

Turning onto my side, I stared into the sultry darkness in your direction.

"Yeah?" I replied. The sound of rustling fabric was the only answer I got for a few moments. Once the night was quiet again, I knew that, somewhere in the dark room in front of me, you had turned round and were staring right back at me.

"What's your favourite game? Word games, card games, board games..." you paused a moment, obviously thinking hard about your next words, "riddles..." Gone was the eerily still quality to your voice. It was replaced only by a soft, quavering tone that was somehow both fierce and fearful at the same time.

I was taken aback by the question; it wasn't at all what I expected. You hadn't slept in my room for at least three months. I was expecting some sort of an answer to your sudden relapse into needing me to help dispel your insomnia. Instead, I got a question about games. I stuttered for a moment before I was finally able to answer.

"Um... riddles, I guess...?" It was the longest sentence I'd uttered in a week. As I said it, my vocal cords felt oddly tight and rusty from disuse, making it difficult to choke out my reply. "Why do you ask?" A whole eight words-- that was positively revolutionary, for me. My max was usually half that.

The sleeping bag rustled as you shrugged your shoulders; an oddly noncommittal gesture. Normally you were so assertive.

"I don't know. Just forget about it." Some of the gruffness you usually reserved for others creeped into your voice. I felt my muscles getting tense, and my palms began to sweat. Grimacing a little, I carefully wiped them against my soft pajama shorts, which did little to absorb the moisture.

"Okay...?"

The silence enveloped us once more, wrapping around us and stifling us like a blanket over a face. Automatically, my brain began to count the seconds; and then the minutes; and then the hours. Slowly, my eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and I began to nod off to the lullaby sound of your steady breathing.

Right as sleep began to tug me past the edge, you whispered once more into the dark,

"Edie?"

I didn't open my eyes-- they were too heavy, already sealed shut by sleep.

"Yes?" my speech was slurred by my tired tongue.

"Do you know my laptop password?" The second strange question in a strange night. Reluctantly, I slid one eye open to look confusedly at you.

"Yeah, why?" Maybe this time I would get an answer out you, or so I hoped. No such luck prevailed, however.

"No reason," came your nondescript answer. Had it been during the day, I wouldn't have let it drop until you told me the truth. No, normally, you would have already told me the truth, rather than avoiding my questions. Unfortunately, I was much too exhausted to realize all of this. If I hadn't been, maybe I could've prevented everything that happened next.

"No reason..." You repeated, your words echoing oddly in my brain as I passed the brink into sleep.

That was the last time I heard your voice for a very, very long time.