Unsteady

-prolouge-

3 years ago--

"You don't think she really left for good. Right, mom?"

My mother closed her eyes, and exhaled loudly.

"She did, Val. She did." She said, tears streaming down her face.

Her face looked as if it's aged four years in four minutes.

I climbed on the other side of her bed, and rested my head on her shoulder.

"I hate her." I said, bitterly.

There was a sour taste in my mouth, and I'd almost felt a tiny, twinge  of guilt after I said those three, harsh words out loud.

But the words were true. I did hate her, if I understood the meaning of hate correctly.

Rachael and I were never like other sisters growing up, mostly due to the fact that she was always six years ahead of me. When I had gotten my first Barbie doll, she'd gotten her first tube of mascara. On my first day of kindergarten, she was going onto her first day of middle school. When I graduated eighth grade, she decided to drop out of college to become a DJ.

She was always the center of attention. People judged our family because of her repulsive decisions. Everyone was always whispering about something she did, and always expected me to be the same as she was.

I'd always wanted to get along with my older sister.

It was supposed to be a faze, everyone said. Once we grew older, we'd get along perfectly. I held onto that for so many years, longing for Rachael and I to be the best of friends, as everyone else was with their sisters. I repeated it over and over in my head every time she ran away, slammed her door in my face or did something else that was outrageous. A faze. One that would pass over soon. We'd laugh over all the crazy things she'd done. We'd be friends. But now I knew we were simply incapable of it.

It was like I was already at the edge of the diving board and she pushed me off.

This was the final straw.

We were done.

There was no going back.

We were never going to be best friends, and maybe never even speak to eachother again.

And for once, I was perfectly fine with that.