Not the Cliché

Something Wrong

“Karen?” The voice from the other line spoke softly. Karen could recognize this voice anywhere. But something was very off.

“Joyce? What’s wrong?” The older sister sensed something strange instantly. There was Something Wrong with her voice. She could sense it. Joyce sounded so fragile, a state where she was rarely in. The way she saw Joyce was like a fierce warrior. Although Joyce was humble and shy unlike Karen herself, she was a supportive, enthusiastic younger sibling. Their eight year difference didn’t matter; they were—and always had been—close to each other, no matter what.

“I need you to come to my apartment.” Joyce whispered, trying to stifle her tears. Karen could hear a jagged edge in her voice. Something was wrong.

Karen knew she shouldn’t speak any further. She promptly hung up from her cell phone and grabbed a bag which only had her wallet, phone and keys.

What had happened? Did someone hurt Joyce?

It was often when people hurt Joyce. Her shy and loyal personality was the perfect target for those who did not hesitate to use other people for their own gain. Joyce’s kindness was often abused but Karen respected it all the way.

Karen ran outside and in a flash, climbed into her car, starting her engine. Her thoughts focused on nothing and nobody but Joyce.

People thought that Karen and Joyce’s close relationship was odd, but only because siblings often fought. But they rarely argued; most of the time, they were debating over cats or dogs.

“Hurry up, hurry up.” Karen muttered, in hopes that her encouragement would coax the car engine to begin working.

The car roared into life and Karen quickly rolled off the driveway and into the street.

Karen felt a need to help Joyce all the time, as much as possible. After all, Joyce’s altruistic personality offered Karen assistance more than enough times. The least Karen could do was be there for Joyce at times of distress.

It was obvious something was wrong because Joyce repressed her feelings frequently. There had to have been something that happened that made Joyce express them to only Karen. Joyce was a private type and she is was often mistaken as emotionless to others because she didn’t rely on many.

With the exception of me, Karen thought as she stepped on her petal to charge faster. The sisterly relationship between Karen and Joyce was even closer than Elsa and Anna. Karen and Joyce were pretty much opposites. Karen, with her social and sensitive personality and Joyce’s loyalty and diligence harmonized.

As soon as Joyce’s address became familiar through her car window, Karen parked quickly and sloppily. She ran up the stairs and took her keys into Joyce’s apartment. The family was fairly wealthy so a small apartment for each of them was enough.

“Joyce! Are you okay?” Karen rushed to Joyce, who was kneeling down, mascara running over her cheeks.

“He cheated on me, Karen! How could he?” Joyce cried, flailing her arms to Karen. Joyce hugged Karen tightly, as if she was going to lose Karen too. Karen held a pitiful expression, knowing deeply inside herself how it felt like too. She rubbed the wailing girl’s back, slowly and softly.

They stood like that for a few minutes, Joyce staining Karen’s shirt but Karen didn’t seem to mind.

Karen stayed silent. She didn’t tell Joyce, “I told you that Aaron was not good for you!” That would be too insensitive. But she did know that Joyce was blind when Aaron was dating her.

“I walked in, to see him and Brittany naked, on my own couch!” As Joyce explained what had happened, Karen felt furious, “I wouldn’t be as depressed if Aaron just told me straightforward. The fact that he was hiding it from me and I caught him hurts me so much, Karen.”