Author Games: Red Room

Task Six: Iosefina Matua

It takes a few minutes for my little sister's words to register.

They come at the most unexpected moment as we sit on the roof of our apartment, just as I'm running my fingers through her thick, black hair in preparation for her usual french braids. When they leave her thin lips Oliana doesn't look at me; instead she simply holds her gaze forward towards the Honolulu sunset ahead of us,.

"Why would you want to cut your hair?" I question quickly, instantly regretting the sharpness of my words as my sister shifts uncomfortably before me. She pulls her hair out of my hands and back over her shoulder before turning around to face me. I can just barely see the glint of a tear welling up in her eye, but I don't dare mention it.

"Look, it's just not me alright? I've always wanted short hair, and I'm asking for your help. That

"No, my job as an older sister is to prevent my younger sister from looking back at her high school yearbook and cringe because of a shitty haircut," The causal joking would usually make Oliana laugh, but this time it just makes her grit her teeth. A simple comment makes the air between us suddenly so much tighter, but I'm not entirely sure why. "I'm supposed to impart my knowledge to be sure that you don't make the same mistakes I did."

"What if I'm not your sister Iosefina? Have you ever thought of that?" Oliana hisses under her breath, as if the idea of anyone else hearing her is worse than catching the plague. Before her confession even hits me with its full weight I'm speechless, as I've never had her use my full name like that before. It was always Io, and before that it was Sefi, and only ever Sefina if she was really mad. However, by the time "Don't ask any questions, because I don't really have any answers. All I know is that I'm your brother, not your sister, and I know that's probably going to be difficult to accept but-"

I don't listen to the rest of her explanation. Before I can hear any more my body moves into autopilot, and before I know what I'm doing I've taken to my feet and am walking towards the other side of the roof. She's yelling at me, but I don't hear what she's saying. Instead I just grab my backpack, which is currently propping the door back into the building open, and reach in carefully until my fingers settle on the cold metal.

"You don't need to explain. I'm just grabbing these," I say quietly, pulling the scissors out of my backpack and tossing them in Oli's direction. Her (or his, I suppose she hasn't specified yet) face instantly goes through about five different emotions before settling on pure disbelief, handing the scissors back to me as I take my seat again behind him. "I've got you brother. No matter what."

-

They don't need to tell me that one of the people they bring in is my brother.

Even with the black pillowcase obscuring his face it's clear to me the moment he's forced through the doorway. As if the mass of bloody bandages that cover his shoulder didn't give it away early enough, it's easy to tell within an instant simply by the quiet and shy way he walks. It's the same pattern of steps I've seen time and time again, and it's only confirmed by the quiet voice that whispers an apology under his breath as he approaches. If this had been a week ago I would have ran forward to hold him, I would have ran to his side and told him that none of this is his fault, but the moment the thought even crosses my mind one of the armed guards puts his hand forward in such a way that I know I would lose my chance to ever say something to Ollie if I disobeyed.

The other figure is a mystery until they remove the pillowcase. The figure is larger than that of my brothers, but the pattern of steps is similar enough that I shouldn't have had to wait so long to figure it out. In terms of mannerisms my mother is usually quite the mirror of my brother, but this time her face bears an expression that's so different from the one painting my brother's face that I can't quite decipher it. She's both afraid and apathetic, as if she's already resigned to her fate. Yet again I want to reach out and hug her, but a simple glare from one of the guards is sign enough to remain in my place. It's only a second or two after that glare that the voice rings throughout the room, with a cold finality that chills me to the bone.