Sister, Sister.

XX: Hate

TWO MONTHS, THREE WEEKS BEFORE

Karlie

Everytime I closed my eyes, I saw the vivid image of Jesse kissing Kat and grabbing her round derriere in his hands. Her long, slim henna-tattoed arms were snaked around his neck and their mouths were joined, drinking ravenously from each other.

I was not angry, not really. I was incredulous that Jesse would kiss my sister in public, in broad daylight. And that my sister would kiss Jesse in broad daylight, in public. Did he not know how I felt about him? Did he really care? Did he really like me or was it all in my head? Had I read the signs wrong?

I sat outside in the evening, ignoring the whining of mosquitoes and the biting breeze, pondering on why Kat would kiss Jesse. Did she not know how I felt about him? Did she not care? Had she liked him all these while?

When Dad asked me to come in for dinner, I declined. My stomach hurt, I did not trust it to hold down food. It was mourning the loss of it's butterflies. My stomach was heartbroken too.

By bedtime, I was thinking about torturing Kat. I could see myself ripping out her red hair with my hands, pouring her beloved alcohol into her eyes. I would hold her waistbeads in my fists and pull so they would snap, a thousand, colourful beads would rain down, clattering on the tiles.  I wanted to punch her so bad, my fists clenched just thinking about it.

So, at around ten PM, when my parents were in the living room watching something hilarious on TV, I stalked into Kat's red room.

She was perched at the edge of her bed, filing her fingernails, not fazed when her door slammed shut or when I slid the bolt home.

It was like in the movies where the villain was unperturbed because they were expecting the hero. The only problem was that I was no hero. Just a pathetic, delusional, naive girl who thought that her crush would pick her over her attractive, larger-than-life sister. I wanted to turn away and leave but I killed the thought.

Kat looked at me via side eye. A slow, eerie smile creeped across her glossy lips. "Puppet," she sighed. And I knew that she knew. That was when I realised that I hated her.

"How could you?" I seethed coldly, fists clenching and unclenching at my sides forming angry lines between my fingers.

Kat's hand shot to her mouth in mock surprise. The beautiful red swirls and lines that adorned her hand taunted me. "What are you blabbing about?"

I took a step forward, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears. "How could you kiss Jesse, Kat? How could you do that to me?!"

Kat looked at me like I was an unreasonable, tantrum-throwing toddler. "I didn't do anything, Puppet. You brought it upon yourself," she crooned, trying to hush me.

"You liar!" I accused, stabbing a finger at her, "you kissed him! I saw you with my own eyes."

Kat exhaled heavily, like I was being unreasonable, not worth her time. She grabbed her nail file from her bed and continued filing her nails, talking in a slow, measured tone like I was retarded. "I am not denying the fact that I kissed Jesse, Karlie. On the contrary, I had asked him to wait for me, he did. I saw you watching him like a little, obsessed brat and I knew it was a golden opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Kiss Jesse, see what all the fuss is about and put you out of your misery."

That was when I lost it and lunged at her with my fist, making a projectile for her face. My fist connected with her jaw, I heard a crack sound followed by the sharp pain in my hand.

Kat pushed me off her so hard I staggered backwards and collided with her wardrobe door so it grunted on its hinges.

She stared at me, rubbing her jaw. I was glad that I was able to wipe off the smug look on her face.