Abnormal

Introduction: How My World Imploded

It all started when I was five years old, sitting in my bedroom pondering life. 

My family consisted of me, Mom, Dad, and Spencer.

Mom was just as loving and caring as any you could expect a mother to be. I didn't appreciate the spinach salad she insisted upon making me eat, but her homemade honey-wheat bread with strawberry jam was scrumptious. Somehow she got on the homeschooler bandwagon and believed that public schools were wrong and home schooling was the best option. This led to some of the other bandwagon trends... the yogurt making, the Keifer growing, the jumpers and pillow case dresses, and so much more. Despite the annoyance of some of her food rules, I loved my mother. We snuggled up in the evenings and she read books to me and Spencer. 

Dad was fun and goofy. Every morning he and I would walk downtown to the coffee shop and I would get a sugar cookie while he got coffee for himself and mom. On weekends he could be found taking Spencer and me to run errands and singing silly songs throughout the day. He also liked to bake muffins for breakfast on Saturdays. 

Spencer was my older brother. He was always busy doing school, and mom was always busy teaching him. Big brothers aren't much fun, especially when they're doing school. Being the younger of two siblings got pretty boring at times, seeing as I was often left alone to entertain myself. Entertaining was not my strong suit, so I would sit around doing nothing as I bemoaned the boringness of my life. That morning, an idea popped into my head. "I wish I had a sister!" I thought. "Someone to play with me, someone to entertain me, someone to be my friend..."

A friend. That was another thing I hadn't had. Friends were hard to come by when you weren't around other kids much. From what I'd heard, though, they sounded quite pleasant. Once I had been cleaning my room begrudgingly when a particular article of clothing caught my attention. On it was a picture of two smiling deer, and the letters "BFF". I pondered over the meaning of those letters. What would it have been like, to have a Best Friend Forever? Did you get to have fun all the time? Did you tell each other secrets? Did you not have to be bored? I didn't know, but I knew I wished to find out.

Perhaps that is why I wanted a sister. From what I'd heard, they were like automatically guaranteed friends. You knew you'd get to know them cause you'd live with them, and they'd always be there so you'd never have to be alone. This curious thing called a "sister" might be the answer to all my problems. Oh, to think of all the fun we could have! No more lying on the carpet staring up at the ceiling and watching the fan blades tick for lack of better things to do. A sister would be wonderful. But I couldn't have one... or so I thought.

Just a few months later, my parents began talking about "adoption". I soon found out the meaning of this as well as the word "adoption". Mom looked on the computer a lot at pictures of all the different girls. We could choose whichever one we wanted and get them and make them a part of our family. Could it be? I was going to have a sister after all! And I even got to help pick her out. 

There were many girls to choose from, young and old, short and tall, and from many parts of the world. I liked the prospect of a girl named Molly who was the same age as I was, but I was told we couldn't adopt a child who was allergic to every type of food but fruit. Samantha also was a good candidate in my eyes, but she was older and "would have a hard time learning our language". 

After much searching, we settled on a girl named Jo. Technically, her name was Joanna, but she was known by her nickname. Jo wasn't allergic to anything and the internet people said she was a calm and peaceful child. 

Looking back, Mom always says God must have had a sense of humor when he gave us Jo. She's athletic, outgoing, loud, and just about everything that the rest of my family isn't. Her personality was the opposite of what we had been told. We really had no idea who she was, but we thought we did.

She seemed perfect for our family. And so, the process of adoption began.

There was paperwork, money, and plenty of other adult matters to be dealt with, but none of that was of any importance to me. All I knew was that life would be different soon, and I wouldn't be alone anymore. I'd finally have the sister I wished for, and I was excited.

Once all the legal affairs were settled, it was time to meet my new sister. I waited in expectancy and curiosity as our minivan pulled up in the driveway. First Dad got out, then Mom. They went to the side of the van together and slid the stiff door open to reveal a tiny little human. What a strange thing she was, with choppy thin hair and brown beady eyes! I had never seen anyone so skinny as this three-year-old mini human being.

I walked towards my parents and closely examined the interesting specimen. Taking her hand, I guided her down the sidewalk, up the steps and into the old white farmhouse we called home. Slowly, I led her around inside to explore. Her eyes were wide, whether with excitement or fear I couldn't tell. I too had an uncertain feeling, not knowing what to think now that she was finally here. In a sense, I loved her, at least as much as one can love someone they have just met. Neither I nor Jo knew what to expect. At least that much we had in common.

The first day was unusual, to say the least. Suddenly our house was split up with baby gates, which was quite bothersome seeing as I was not tall enough to climb over them and couldn't figure out how to get them open. Inside the gated-off living room, we spent the afternoon "playing" with Jo, or rather surrounding her with too many toys and watching her being completely overwhelmed by the beginning of her new life. It was the beginning of a new life for all of us. Little did I know that once that mini-van door had opened, we would never be the same.

It didn't take long before my parents got the first taste of what they had gotten themselves into. I don't remember what provoked it, but Jo bit Mom. She BIT her, like a wild animal. I was shocked, and I was horrified. Perhaps I was wrong, and this little creature wasn't a mini-human. Perhaps, she was a mini-monster. Mom and Dad tried to believe it was just a matter of her getting used to her new environment, but I wasn't satisfied with that explanation.

Time only proved my suspicions. The "angel" they had brought into my home was no angel at all. If she didn't want to do something, she bit, hit, or spit. Mess with her when she was in a bad mood, and you'd regret it. Poor Mom didn't know what to do with her. I kept my distance.

Years passed by and nothing got better. People at church, her teachers in preschool, and my very own aunts and uncles thought she was darling. They were captivated by her friendliness and cute little smile. But I knew better than that, I knew the truth. I knew the little monster that hid behind her sweet childish appearances, no matter how good she was at fooling others.

Though I was three years older than her, she had the strength of a bull, and it scared me. She chased me whenever she felt like it. I would run to my room as fast as I could, desperately trying to escape. Sometimes I would make it upstairs just in time. Panting and out of breath, I sat in front of the door and kept the monster out. She didn't back off easily, and sometimes she spat through the crack under the door. My terror thrilled her. It was as if she was fueled by the unhappiness of those around her. When I didn't get away soon enough, she would pounce on me, try to tackle me, and sometimes even hit me. The more I shrieked and wailed, the more relentless she became. 

If that was the worst it got, I would have been lucky. I may have felt tortured, but what my mom experienced was far worse. When Mom tried to get Jo to do schoolwork, take a bath, brush her hair, or anything she didn't want to do, Jo would retaliate. Jo wasn't just emotionally hurtful, she was physically aggressive. Words can't express the utter despair you feel when you see your mother being punched or bitten and hear her struggling screams as she tries to hold back the insane thing that is legally your sister. 

Legally. Yes, according to all the paperwork, Jo was part of my family. But in my heart, I couldn't see her as such. Not in a million years would I imagine thinking of her as family. I resented her for how she wrecked my real family. I hated her for how she hurt my mother. Sometimes the words would jump out of my mouth, a low murmur, but an "I hate you" nonetheless. And who wouldn't hate a person who chased them, terrorized them, and left them feeling completely helpless?

I believed I was justified in my attitude towards her because of the wretchedness of her actions towards my family and me. I wished she had never come into my life. I didn't want her to die, per se, I just wanted her to be somewhere far, far away where she couldn't hurt me anymore. 

If only I could press rewind and go back to the little pink play kitchen. Now I knew what I had asked for. I'd take back the wish. Who needed a sister anyway? My life had been much better without the little monster. Sure, I was bored. But better bored than miserable, right? 

I was left with only one power, and a weak one at that: the choice to ignore. Little by little I began to spend more time in my room with the door locked. In order to ignore her, I had to avoid her, and the only place to do that was in my room. Those four walls were the only protection I had from the monster.

It was funny how it all had changed in the blink of an eye. One day I was the princess of my fairy tale world with spinach salad being my biggest enemy. The next day, at least that's what it felt like, I was my parent's least priority with a crazy terrifying sister to hide from. I had thought my life wasn't exciting enough. Now I would have given anything just to find normal.