My Enemy. My Love

Motherly Figure?

"Lilly, I'm home", I yelled down the hallway of my totally destroyed home. There were bottles and cans of beer lying all over the place. Lipstick stains spread across the walls, along with numerous amounts of who knows what all over the roof and floor. I looked up and saw a piece of cheese stuck to the ceiling, pizza scraps on the staircase and an odd sock hanging from the fan. She'd done it again. Lilly is my uncontrollable 20-year-old sister. When my parents died a few years ago she was given custody over me. She's hardly been a parental figure at all, if anything, I've been the one to mother her through these tough times. I'm right behind her to clean up the mess after every mistake she makes.

"LILLY", I yell in a less controlled, angrier tone. Still no reply. As I walk through the kitchen, the stench of sweaty teenagers fills my nostril and I have to hold my stomach. Where is that bitch? I keep walking and continue to yell, "Lilly i swear if you don't show yourself right now I'm going t-". The moaning and groaning of my stupid hung-over sister cut me off. Unbelievable. There she was, on the floor of my bedroom, which now reeked of puke. I walk over and help her up only using one hand, and using the other to block my nose. At this point I'm dragging her into the kitchen so angrily that I'm not even paying attention to what she's hitting along the way. Finally, I put her down on the couch and hand her a glass of water and a couple of aspirins. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? I TOLD YOU, NO MORE PARTIES. BUT NO MISS LILLY OVER HERE IS TOO HUNG UP ON HER OWN LIFE TO THINK ABOUT HER POOR SISTER WHO IS ABSOLUTELY SICK OF THIS. YOU. SHES ABSOLUTELY SICK OF YOU." I immediately start to regret what i said as soon as the words slipped out. Anxious, i ran up to my bedroom, slamming the door and going to sleep.