♥️ All Hail The Queen of Hearts ♥️

Ch♥️pter 2

I tried to breath. I just couldn't. Not today, not now, not ever. Breathing was hard. Breathing hurt. And there was nothing I could do about it. My chest was closing in on me and my fingernails failed to cut the skin at my elbows in which they were currently attached to. I dig them in deeper but I feel nothing. Nothing at all.

The water comes suddenly and is so cold it's sharp. I flinch harshly and bang the back of my head on the cupboard behind me. I'm royally soaked. Drenched with the coldest water I had ever felt.

I looked up to see my sister Alicia staring at me with an annoyed expression on her pretty face and an empty bucket in her right hand. Her strawberry blonde hair woven to the side in a long braid that reached the floor and she had on a small breezy pink dress. She looked somewhat like a princess.

"Alois! Will you stop acting mental for once and not make a fool out of me in front of my friends?" She seethed glaring at me from underneath long fake eyelashes and winged eyeliner.

I don't remember what happened. I don't remember what I did. Nothing. And I was nervous to ask. But I needed to know if I wanted to apologise so here goes nothing...

"What did- what did I do? Wha-wha-what happened?" I manage to squeak out through chattering teeth.

Alicia didn't look upset- she looked downright offended. And I immediately knew she was going to give me hell for my lapse of memory. But I honestly couldn't blame her. I wouldn't want an insensitive and forgetful sister like me either.

"What did you do?! Are you serious?!" She screeched waving her hands up in exasperation. "Are you honestly dumb enough to the point where you can't remember what you did seven minutes ago?! You absolute nut case!" She pushed me back against the cupboard and I hit my head again though a bit harder this time. "You know what you did Alois? You had a fucking panic attack right in the middle of the living room!" She spits in my face practically snarling at this point, "Where Kyle was! Kyle, Alois! Kyle! You know the love of my life, Kyle?! And you made him so uncomfortable he left!" There were tears in her eyes as she glared at me and I felt sick.

I remembered now.

I knew Kyle. We were what could be somewhat considered friends even. But everyone knew Kyle. Kyle was that one guy, you know? He was the too attractive bad boy who hit on everyone and anyone with a vagina in between their legs. But my sister liked him. She had always liked him. Back before he was crazy sex on legs Kyle and was a Kindergartener who couldn't tie his shoelaces and would open food packages just to pour out all the food and chew on the wrapper.

I remember how she used to do crazy shit to try to gain his attention. Once, when she was nine, she set a cat on fire. When she was eight, she'd boil rodents alive in our bag yard. And when she was seven she would dissect animals like squirrels and birds, dead or alive. And when she was six, she continuously threw a turtle down on the pavement till it cracked it's shell and died.

I don't know why she thought animal cruelty would earn his affection, but once she turned eleven and had to go to middle school, she changed her methods of flirtation. She joined the cheerleading squad, she dieted constantly, she dyed her hair from jet black to strawberry blonde, and made cosmetics her religion.

That didn't work either. So while still keeping her feminine life going, she started doing crazy shit again. Not animal cruelty, but she did start racing while drunk with her friends. She became somewhat of an alcoholic and partied at every joint she could get her hands on. Her grades suffered, but her social life sky rocketed. All for a boy.

But I couldn't blame him. Yes my sister did live her life trying to gain his attention, his approval. And She did everything she thought would get her those results despite how dangerous they were.

It's terrible right? It's wrong. My sister did everything for him (though they were all pretty wrong and more than a little fucked up) and he never acknowledged her once. So I should hate him. I really should.

My sister tried everything.

Except talking to him.

Which is why I don't hate Kyle. My sister terrorised him as children lighting his cat on fire and killing anything she found in his backyard. As middle school students, she stalked him while he played Football (American) and would put used panties in his locker. Currently, as high schoolers, my sister still has not spoken one word to this boy yet expects him to love her.

He was at our house today to work on a project he has with me. But I could tell he was uncomfortable. I would be too if I were him. But what he did was wrong. It was wrong on far too many levels for a rational person to forgive right?

He purposely triggered a panic attack.

Everyone knows not to mention my brother. No one can say the word Chadwick in front of me. Not after what happened two years ago. I can't take it. He personally knows I can't take it.

But he did it anyway.

He did it while applying it to our project but he still did it.

It started out fair enough. We were discussing the morals of our current justice system in the living room for our presentation while Alicia was sitting on the sofa across from us pretending to be watching Pretty Little Liars while texting, but was actually taking photos of Kyle instead. Which really did gross me out considering I knew what she did with any photo she could get of him at night. I hear it.

Kyle wanted to leave. I could tell. He was uncomfortable.

So when the topic of cold cases came up, Kyle found his opening.

He asked me one question. One question was all it took.

"Your brother's accident is considered a cold case right? Because they couldn't figure out whether or not he was kidnapped or murdered..."

And that was it.

I felt the bile rise in my throat and my heart started beating faster and faster till it was all I could hear. Nothing made since, everything blurred. Blood rushed everywhere and I felt like it could feel it. I felt cold yet hot at the same time. And all I could think of was that goddamn bike the police found on the side of the road. That stupid pink bike. The one mom made him ride because only females were cherished in our family.

But then the bike disappeared and was replaced by his delicate porcelain face.

He was so smart, so odd, so interesting. He dreamed while awake and could make stories from anything. He liked the colour baby blue the best and hated the flavour of artificial cherry. He had an irrational fear of Toy shops and I don't know why. He was completely morally grey and hated to discuss politics. He was too small for his age and lazy. He loved DC comics and wouldn't touch Marvel if you paid him. He was such a picky eater mom finally, though begrudgingly, had to intervene when he started passing out. He's allergic to cats and wanted to marry Kyle just to spite Alicia.

All the things I knew about him flew at me, drowning me in regret, guilt, but most of all, longing.

I wanted to hold him like I used to back before education became my only passion. I wanted to have clever debates with him again about mediocre things like Which pebbles was better: fruity or chocolate? Such a stupid topic to debate about, but he'd take it so seriously. I wanted to get ice cream with him only for him to not eat it and instead see how long it takes it to melt under certain temperatures and claim it to be for science, I wanted to watch Batman with him, and Superman, and Wonder Woman. Only for him to make clever quips and witty jokes throughout the entire film. I wanted my brother back so bad I thought I was dying.

And I guess in a way I was.

He'd  be thirteen now. An official teenager. Would he still have been so small? Would he have lost that magical imagination? I don't know.

I'll never know.