Sister, Sister.

XII. Red

XII. Red

THREE MONTHS, THREE WEEKS AFTER

Karlie

Kat throws her head back
and the amber liquid flows
down her throat but
the glass bottle
is still full.

"Drink!"
she holds out the bottle to me.
I shake my head while looking
into her black
bottomless
eyes.

She forces my mouth open
with her long, sharp talons.
Her talons are ripping my
mouth open.

I feel no pain.
Red drips from the mouth
to my white dress.

She pours the liquid down my throat.
It burns down my throat,
through my stomach.

When I wake up, my tanktop is damp with sweat. My heart is beating so loud, it echoes into my ears. I stagger to the window and open it, the pale moonlight baths my room. Leaning by the window, I take in the mysterious night sounds and an image of Kat flashes behind my eyes.

Lying on my stomach next to my bed, I fish for the glass bottle I hid under my bed. I sit on the cold tiles and take a swig from it. The amber liquid burns my throat just like the dream. If Kat wants me to drink, I will.

I twist the top open and take healthy swigs until the glass is half empty.

The floor tilts under my feet, I lean over the window sill and vomit. I can taste the burning acid eroding my teeth and gums. I gurgle with cold water from the sink. Then swallow the next mouthful. Alcohol tastes so bad yet Kat and it were insufferable.

Mum sits at the dining table peeling an orange. The strips curl as she goes. She peels it perfectly so it doesn't break. She is wearing her sky blue blouse and matching culottes. Kat hated the blouse, she said it made Mum look ugly. I think she looks good. Rested. Her eyes are not unfocused and she seems present.

Krystal beams at me as he pushes an orange slice into his small mouth. "Karlie!"

"Good morning, Mum," I say, beaming at Krystal even though my taut face muscles object.

She gives me a worried look: scrunched brows, pursed lips. "What's wrong? Are you sick?" Her words are whispered. She pauses and watch me walk across the stained tiles.

Do I look sick? I know my voice sounds like I spent the night screaming at the top of my lungs and I have deep dark circles around my eyes but that is how it has been since Kat died. "No, Mum," I say. "I'm not sick."

She slides a plate of orange slices to me across the table. I kiss Krystal on the forehead and take a seat next to him before pushing a slice into my mouth. I chew, swallowing the juice and chewed seeds I don't mind eating. When I was little, I thought swallowing a seed would make an orange tree grow in my belly. The roots would be firmly rooted in my intestines and the branches would shoot out of my mouth and ears.

"Cook noodles for yourself and Krystal," Mum says stifling a yawn. "Then sweep and mop the house."

"Yes, Mum." I got to work immediately, cooking the noodles in a pot of boiling, spiced water and boiling eggs on the next burner. Krystal insists on peeling his own boiled egg, his egg comes out with patches of missing egg white.

Sweeping the sitting room, hallway, kitchen and verandah took twice the time. I was slightly sweeping when I was done.

When I retire to my room, Mum appears by the doorway. She is wearing a black dress that was formerly her size but hangs off her shoulders, two sizes larger.

"I'm going to the market, will you come?"

"You shouldn't be going to the market," I blurt, sitting up so I can look at her properly.