Disappear

PREFACE

Everything was a blur, a dark empty space in which somehow, I had fallen into. It was like breathing without air, flying without wings. I knew that nothing in my life would ever be the same again, that there would always be darkness. Darkness that would never, ever go away.

After all, how can life possibly be the same after your sister dies?

Danielle, the sister who had been my role model and best friend my entire life, was gone. She was just an empty shell that would never smile, laugh, or cry again.

And I didn’t understand why.

Danielle had seemed like the best kind of person you could know. She never back talked our parents, she got straight A’s in school, she had even been awarded a full out scholarship to Yale for her academic’s and efforts in high school. She had appeared as the type of person who had never swore, never lied, and never stolen.

But I guess even the perfect ones hide behind a lie.

Because the sister that I suspected could never even hurt a fly, was also the sister that had been killed in a car accident not even five days ago. The driver had been drinking, and had been killed instantly when they collided with a semi in the other lane.

Eight people died that night, my sister among them. And there was one reason behind it all.

Thievery.

Danielle had been part of the group that had purposely broken in and robbed a convenience store along with four houses in one night. Six people had been shot, and only four had been admitted to hospital with fatal injury. My sister, who was so good and pure, had been part of the group to murder two innocent people along with seriously injure four of them.

I had been living in the same house as a killer.

But none of that mattered anymore. The only thing that kept running through my mind was “my sister was dead, she was dead and there was nothing I could do about it.” I’ve been told from birth that I was a protective child, that I even as a toddler, I wouldn’t let anyone hurt my family or friends. And now, I couldn’t protect them. I couldn’t stop my mother’s tears, my fathers constant drinking or my brother’s depression. I couldn’t even stop myself from acting out violently everywhere I went.

It was like living in a universe where I was helpless to do anything.

And I hated it. I hated having to urge my brother to do his homework; having to get my mom up in the morning; having to bring food up to my dad because he wouldn’t even get out of bed. But most of all, I hated the reporters.

When people say that reporters are like bugs, they’re not kidding. They follow you everywhere; to the store, the garage, even to school. And all because they want a good story. They want to know every little detail from why Danielle would do it, to how I’m dealing with being the only eye witness to what happened.

And to tell the truth, I’m not handling it well at all. I cry myself to sleep each night, hoping that this is all some terrible nightmare. That when I wake up, my sister will be at the breakfast table, and I won’t have the weight of the world on my shoulders.

But I still wake up the same every morning, and I’m beginning to think that this dream I want to wake up from, isn’t really a dream at all.