My Sister's the Devil

Drawings

The automatic doors of the adoption center open, letting out the crisp cold, rubbing alcohol smell trapped within the walls. The base pf the walls are a bare white, complimenting the black tiles of the floor. On the walls though, there are drawings. Most likely made by the kids. 

My parents walk to the front desk as I stay behind to look at the doodles. They seem normal, typical kid stuff. I trail along the drawing of rainbows, stick-figures, and suns until I stop. Oh, I only stopped because of the plant next to the front desk. 

"Ah, I see you're looking at the children's drawings.", the receptionist says. She has a sweet voice which fits her. Her blonde hair falls just above her shoulders, which is covered by a light gray sweater. She smiles a relatively "I don't want to do this but I have to. I want to leave, help me." kind of smile. Her crystal blue eyes say the same. 

I breathe in, "..yes." The woman stands and points to one just below her elbow. The drawing was of a flower, drawn and painted to make it seem realistic. The blending of the bright orange near the center and the blood red of the tip was extraordinary.  I was blown away by it. "This was made by a 5 year old name Bo. He's such an amazing artist.", she explains. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see another doodle. I looked at it, and it almost took the living soul out of me. Pain struck me in my chest and I felt as if I couldn't breathe. I stumble a bit. It's painful to look at, but I can't take my eyes off it. It's like I'm enthralled to this kid's coloring. It's a picture of a little girl- which I don't know if it was poorly drawn or made purposely- with her face contorted, horns sticking out of her head, and what it seems like blood on her arms and legs. Her eyes are a full black, nothing else. 

I snap back to reality and I find myself panting.

"Aubelle, are you okay?", my mom questions. I try to speak but the words don't seem to be leaving me. I only nod my head. My mom comes over next to me and examines me. "You seem fine, are you just nervous to meet your new sister, Maira?" I pause. Oh yea, my parents already adopted her. They already met her. I haven't. We're just taking her home today.. I nod. My heart starts beating fast. 

The receptionist doesn't seem to be paying any attention to what's happening, for which she is struck in a conversation with my dad. The phone rings at the desk and the woman goes to take it. She only ends with a "mhm okay" and hangs up. She gives off a radiant smile and says, "Congratulations, Harrisons, your new daughter Maira is waiting outside for you." My heart's beating so quickly that I almost faint. My breathing grows heavier. My anxiety is scaling through the roof. I'm starting to shake a bit. My dad puts his hand on my shoulder and gives a faint smile, indicating for me to calm down a bit and be happy. 

We walk out the same doors we entered through half an hour ago. The atmosphere feels..off. There's a heavy weight on me, and all I feel is dread. One minute I'm burning hot and the next I'm freezing cold. The sun is covered by clouds, making everything dark. On the sidewalk comes a tall man, holding a little suitcase in one hand and the hand of a child in the other. I can't really see the kid yet, for which a big bush is covering them. 

The man bends down and puts both hands on her shoulders, as if how they say goodbye in movies. Both the man and the child hug, and he gives them their things before smiling and letting the child go. He waits there as they make way around the corner. 

"GOODBYE MAIRA! HAVE FUN WITH YOUR FAMILY!", the man yells. At that moment, a small figure appears before us. Obviously, it's Maira. She seems pretty damn cute already. Like I could just squeeze her. Her straight black hair covers half of her face. She has very pale skin, freckles, and amber eyes. Her black dress is put on top of a white long- sleeve shirt, which is a good combination in my opinion. She's holding the suitcase the man gave her. She's also holding.. uh.. what it seems to be.. a stuffed demon..? Whatever. You do you, girl. 

My anxiety trails down a bit. Maira looks to be about 6 or 7. I lose control of my body and mind and ask her, "Did you draw that picture of the little girl, Maira?" She looks up at me, smiles the biggest and cutest smile you could ever see, and says, "Of course I did."