The Other Half

2

The nightmare occurred days ago, but I couldn't get my mind off anything else. My sister's distorted face was still so clear in my mind. Why would I ever dream of anything so gruesome? Maybe I should talk to her about it, but that would be a horrible way to start talking to Grace again. We haven't spoken in years, ever since that incident. 

When we were younger, I was ten and she was six, our parents weren't around much. My mother was sick, but no doctor could diagnose her. They would just give her more medications that had no positive effect on her. Half of the time she would be our loving, caring mother, but the other half was this unrecognizable monster. When she was the monster, she was violent and unstable. She could be a completely different person like the flip of a switch. 
Matters got worse with age; Grace and I's father was tasked with taking care of her through her mood swings. However, her condition started weighing heavy on him. He started drinking to relieve his stresses, especially when she was unstable. I would have to lock our mother in her room because our father was passed out drunk on the couch. This went on for years until he couldn't take it anymore. He drank himself to death.

With our father gone and our mother incapable of taking care of us during her fits, she was sent to a mental institution. I had just turned 18 at this point, so I was able to be the guardian of Grace. This was a really tough time for both of us; we just lost our father and our mother. Of course, we would visit our mother sometimes, but she just grew more unstable as time passed and our visitation wasn't doing us any good. 

A few years passed and I started feeling like my father. Taking care of another person full-time weighed heavy on my mind. I felt trapped and I wanted to relieve my stresses. I never drank, though, I would never resort to materials to fix my anxieties. With nothing to channel my emotions through, I became an irritable, tense person. 
Grace became worried about my state of mind, and that I might end up like one of our parents. She suggested I get help from a professional. During this time, I thought her suggesting me to get help was her trying to send me to a mental institution, like our mom. I was enraged and took it out on her. Grace was nearly 18 now, so she walked out. 

Grace leaving proved to be the awakening I needed. I decided to talk to a therapist and I got the help I needed. I didn't tell Grace, though, because I figured she was doing better without me and I didn't want to cause any issues. 

Five years have gone by since this incident and we haven't talked. 

This nightmare had really worried me about her. She lives in California now, which is about seven and a half hours away by plane from where I live in Michigan. I would call her, but I think what I want to tell her needs to be said in person.