The Silent Sister

Four

The laptop's surface was smooth and cold against my fingers as I pulled it out from its usual hiding spot in your room. Our parents didn't want you to buy it, thinking you would look up "illicit content". You brushed off the comment, uncharacteristically not putting up a fight, which confused me to no end. This was not the Cassie I knew. But then a week later, I saw you typing away when I snuck into your room to ask a question. You knew I wouldn't snitch on you, so after one imploring look, you let me look at it and try it out. I think that was the only time that I caught you using it.

Now, my eyes glued to the screen, I painstakingly typed in your password, double checking every number and letter before moving on to the next. The clatter of my fingers against the keys drilled into my brain, giving me a headache that pounded like a tiny hammer just behind my eyes. But I ignored it and pushed on.

S1lnt_s1str

For a very long couple of seconds, a little whirligig spun threateningly in the center of the dark screen. I held my breath, afraid that I had typed something in wrong. Afraid you had changed the password without telling me. But then a pleasant little ding issued from the hidden speakers between the monitor and the keyboard, and I was in.

It takes a lot to surprise me, you know that. Nonetheless, my breath caught in my chest at your background photo and the memory it sparked; a picture of the two of us last year on the Fourth of July. Our mother had one of her rare moments of motherly affection and took it candidly (it wouldn't be as genuine if it wasn't).

In the picture, it's the golden hour; the setting sun kissing the horizon and bathing everything in rutilant light. And though it's not yet dark out, you can make out the happy sparkles of firework-fountains just behind us. We're both laughing at something, and I don't think I've ever seen you look more beautiful. The light hits your eyes just right, transforming them into miniature quasars; your hair turned to liquid rivulets of chocolaty waves cascading down your back.

I can remember that day in perfect detail. The sulfur smell of the fireworks. The sweet perfume of the brightly colored flowers blooming all along the street. The sound of your laughter and the flash of your perfect white smile. I think if I had to choose one day to live in for the rest of forever, it would be that day. Because for the first time in a long time, you were openly happy-- we both were. And Lord knows that's a rare occasion.

The weight of your disappearance crashed down on my shoulders without warning, making my eyes prick with fearful tears. Wiping them angrily away with the heel of my hand, I let loose a small, "no". No crying. I didn't know if you were just gone for a while or if you were gone. And I couldn't let myself guess.

Stashing away the thoughts and the memory, I focused my attention on the screen, looking at your alphabetically-organized folders. Taking in each name, each letter, trying to find what you left for me.

One word caught my eye, and I turned my gaze to it, reading the rest.

Edie's Game.

Heart pounding against my ribcage, I clicked on the folder, opening it. Inside was one document amongst a sea of at least 200 folders. Confusion washed over me, followed quickly by overwhelming curiosity, and I opened the document, almost scared as to what I might find.