It Was Written in Blood

I was the one who found her. I was the one that found my sister. She was sprawled out on the bathroom floor. Blood was everywhere, but mostly covering her body. I took one look at her, and knew she was dead.
I wish I could have done something to help. I could have told people to stop bullying her. But I didn't because It was always strange to think she was my twin.
We were 'identical' twins, though it never seemed that way. I remember on our first day of kindergarten, I made friends with everybody in the class, and Isabel made none. We've always been opposites, so I don't think anyone was surprised when she died her hair black and put on thick make up.
But all that doesn't matter now. She's dead. And I could have saved her. But I didn't. I knew she started cutting I knew about the abuse, I knew she hurt so deeply that no one but she could fathom it.
But I did nothing, and I found her. My sister is dead. My other half is dead. Isabel is dead.