The John Hughes Club

Chapter Six

The beautiful light is there, just like it's always been before.

Being drawn to its glowing beauty, I'm moving towards it like I'm floating. I don't see my feet, but they always take me towards the bright wonder of that light. As I'm being drawn towards it, closer and closer, I see my sister...I see Anais. No longer is the light pulling me; it's only her. She's just as I remember her, her three year old self with dark curls and long lashes framing her almond-shaped brown eyes. Only, she's wearing no clothes. Her tiny frame is naked. Naked, with the light shining brightly behind her. In moments, I'm within touching distance of my little sister, who's smiling that sweet smile of hers. "You have to let me go, Mindy." She calmly tells me.

All the beauty of the light soon becomes ugly to me. The calm pulling, now feels like it's savagely ripping me apart. I've been here before, and I always start crying out the same thing. "No, Anais! I can't do that! I can't let you go!"

Anais smiles again; serenely fixed upon me. "It's time. It's time to let me go."

She always says the same thing. Always smiles the same smile. "No! I can't! I won't!" I'm sobbing now. Sobbing to the point that I've dropped to my knees, because the angelic sight of my sister is more than I can take.

"It's time for me to go. Time for me to leave you." Her small hand reaches for me, it always reaches for me. As the tears are rolling down my cheeks, I'm a devastated heap on the ground. Reaching out for her, my fingertips are shakily outstretched. The light becomes blindingly bright; too bright to see, too bright to know where my sister's hand is. Crying more and more, I'm trying to reach Anais, but the ethereal light is devouring us; devouring us whole.

"Anais! Anais!" My sobs are now screams, screams that are also being swallowed up by the light. "Anaaaaaaaaaais!" This scream is the loudest, the most heartbroken of screams. The devastation of it, echoes all around me. As the echo fades, so too does the blinding light. Once my eyes are able to see, I'm struck with a newer sadness. My precious little sister has gone. Once again, she's gone. One last whimper of desolation leaves my trembling lips. "Anais! Come back!"

"Mindy! Wake up, Mindy! It's okay, I'm here!" The strength of dad's voice is dragging me from the sad clutches of my dream; dragging me from its dreamy depths. Holding me within his fatherly arms, dad holds me until my whimpering disappears into the shadows of my bedroom. "I've got you. It's okay now." Dad's gentle tone is going into my ears, calming the inner workings of my tortured mind. This isn't the first time that dad has had to rush to my bedside after a bad dream, it also won't be the last.

"It's the same one." I whisper into dad's shoulder, knowing that he'll understand what I mean. I don't believe in fairytales, but I do believe in nightmare's. I believe in the kind that are there in the shadows at night; prowling while I sleep. I also believe in the kind that stalk me within the normality of my daily life; invisible to the naked eye but there with me during every single one of my waking moments.
Those nightmares exist.
I live and breathe such nightmares.

"Do you want me to make you an hot milk?" Dad gently asks me, now soothingly stroking the damp curls of my hair away from my tear-soaked cheeks.

When I have such a dream, it's always the same—dad cuddles me until I stop crying, he makes me a sweetened hot milk, sits and talks with me while I'm drinking it, then we both try to get some sleep until the morning arrives—tonight, is no different. "Yes please." I groggily say, tired and emotionally spent.

Still stroking my hair, dad smiles the smile that I've seen so many times before. A smile that's saying I understand and it's going to be okay. He does understand, but I'm starting to think that things are never going to be okay. Myself, mum and dad, have all been living a life for six years, of us not being okay. Whenever I think that things might possibly be, the dreams of Anais become more frequent, more painful. The death of my sister has become sewn into my life, stitched together with the threads of my guilt. No matter how many times I get told it was just a tragic accident. No matter how many times I'm told that it wasn't my fault, bottom line is: I can't accept that. As a sister to Anais, I fell short. I didn't know how to save her, so I didn't even try. My nine year old self, simply froze. I froze, unable to move or cry out. While my three year old sister was dying right before my young eyes, I just froze. I've had six years of replaying those moments over and over in my head, and I always come back to the same conclusion—I unforgivably failed as a sister. On that awful day when Anais died, our family died alongside her. Anais was only three years old, but her loss will be felt for all the years that I, dad and mum have left to live. Her death is around every corner, in every shadow; always there. It's there, never letting us forget. All of us, trudge around in our grief and in our blame. Dad blames himself for being on the other side of the country when it happened. Mum blames herself for being on the phone at the time of the accident. While myself and my mum, both blame me for freezing with absolute fear—silent and paralysing fear.