Cinderella's Sister

Shit.

This is what Ivy looks like

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Chapter 1
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Shit.

That's the first thought that flies through my head.

How the hell am I going to get her out of this one?

"Hey Cinderella," I say and hold her shaking shoulders, "it's gonna be okay."

She just shakes her head and continues to sob. Telling me she is sorry, that she doesn't know what to do. I just hold my baby sister in my arms. One of my hands rub down her slender back and the other is draped in her shoulder length blonde hair.

Cinderella, Ella as we all call her, is just 20 years old. She is only in her second year of college, the spring semester. She is just a kid herself, and her boyfriend is only my own age, 22. Lucas Charming, but I just call him Prince.

"It's alright," I tell her, "I've got ya. I'm here Ella."

I am worried honestly, but can't let it show. I'm the older sister, I have to figure out how to get more money, how I'm gonna make sure she still gets her degree and finishes college.

"Ivy," she blubbers and moves her head to look at me, "What do I do?" she asks and I look helplessly shifting between her left and right eyes.

"I," Pausing remembering that I am supposed to be the one with the level head.
I take a deep breath, "What do you want to do?" I ask softly as she stares down at her white skirt with a floral design on it.

"I-I don't even know..." she looks back up at me, "what would you do?" she asks abruptly and again I am feeling helpless.

"Me?" I ask and I slowly brush her hair out of her face along with some tears, "We both know what I would do. I'm not someone who should be a mother," I answer truthfully, "But that's me. You're the one with a bun in the oven."

She lets out a pathetic attempt of a laugh, at my pathetic attempt at a joke. There is a silence between us as I continue rubbing her back, we both know what has to happen.

"I'm keeping it," she says.

"I know," I say softly. I am Pro-Choice all the way and so is Ella, but that doesn't mean every woman that is Pro-choice will want an abortion.

"I'm not as strong as you," she says and I chuckle lowly.

"I know," I say still smiling.
I am a trained fighter and good three inches taller than her, I am obviously stronger than her.

"No," she says with an eye roll, "I mean mentally, you were always tough."

"Not always. I became tough for us, and you will become strong for her or him or it," I say gesturing towards her stomach that is behind her black top, "You will grow because of this," I assure her and she nods her head.

Again a silence washes over us as I run my fingers through her hair and cradle her in my arms. I will remember this as one of the last times I treated my baby sister as a baby, for her own good.

"We have to tell him," she says and I shake my head.

"No. You have to tell him. This is between you and him," I say and she begins to wine but I stop her, "however, I will drive you and wait out on the steps or something."

She takes a moment before nodding her head and I remove my arms from around her to stand up in our white-walled living room with black furniture.
'Furniture' is actually just a love seat, recliner chair, and small coffee table. We have a fake plant somewhere near the window, and one picture frame of the two of us smiling with dad wrapping us in his arms.