Bad Sister

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛

I have a plan.

Well, had. I had a plan.

Up until now, I knew exactly what I wanted to say. I had a starting, a sincere apology I hoped they'd believe, straight down to the conclusion in which I plead my case with God's honest truth. The hurtful truth.

Eventually they'd find out, so, I had a plan to tell them myself.

Had. I had a plan. I want to laugh and cry right now, but no emotion seems to be a match for the disappointment and slight hint of disgust in my father's dark eyes.

It's all too familiar look. I'm a walking disappointment.

I purse my lips, toying with the skin peeling around my finger nails.

Maybe I shouldn't have rushed coming over. Ahh, so many things I wish I could take back.

When will I get something right?

My mother tries hard to keep the stern facade. It reminds me of the time I almost snorted coke with Logan behind the convenient store back home. Or the time I dragged Maddie to the prom afterparty.

She drank so much, she puked her guts out nonstop the following day. Nonstop.

He didn't talk to me for a week then. I can't say it was worse than watching Maddie constantly drink water just to vomit it.

I exhale, surveying the place as I pray the load on my chest lessens.

Everything, everywhere looks light and refreshing. And clean. I don't think I'd find a speck of dust even if I tried. A tinge of jealousy burns my heart and I sit back, sinking further into the new, turquoise sofa.

Luxurious and comfortable. Definitely expensive. I usually buy my furniture from the flea market. This is just a downright show off.

To top it off, there are house plants in almost every nook and corner of the place. I wouldn't be surprised if I found some in the bedrooms. They look too green and healthy to belong to my sister. Where does she get the time to take care of them if she's always working?

The walls are coated with eggshell yellow paint and it does nothing to lighten the mood. I'm more nervous than I was when I walked all the way here.

If only I could turn back time.

There's not a single trace of me ever living here. It hurts, but I smile and adore her as she throws some popcorn into her mouth.

She's looking at the TV but doesn't seem to be paying much attention to what's happening.

My eyes drift to the empty couch Reilly once occupied. A light fur cushion is laid against the armrest, making it look untouched.

So many emotions ran through Reilly's eyes when he saw me. Yet, he couldn't even voice a single one of his concerns.

I wonder what he wanted to say, what he would've said if it were just the two of us.

Would he be kind and thoughtful?

How have you been?

Or rather, angry and considerate.

Where have you been?

And the one that gives me chills; where's my baby?

Even if you're to look at it from different angles, his underlying emotion would be rage.

But then again. . .

"You're not in any trouble, are you?" My father asks. His voice is gravelly, contrasting his earlier emotions, it makes me sit up right and she my head vigorously.