Bested by Mia

I twisted uncomfortably in my sheets for the seventh time that night. It was 3 a.m. on Wednesday morning and I still had yet to fall asleep. School‘s going suck today, I thought finally throwing off the covers off of my sweaty body. I needed some water. I walked across my hardwood floor my footsteps making a dull thud throughout the silent house, my parents and sister having gone to bed hours before.

The cool water felt great sliding down my throat and I made two more glasses before washing the cup out and placing in back in the cabinet. Making it back to my room I instantly felt relief. I opened my windows letting some of the autumn air slip in. I was fully prepared to fall into a deep sleep when realization hit me: Great now I have to pee.

I walked across the hall, preparing to go into the bathroom I shared with my older sister, but I was stopped when a swift feeling off dread filled me. Not just a simple sense of worry either, but a feeling of something absolutely horrible happening. I tried to shrug it off, Calm down Lani, you worry too much.

As I twisted the knob, the smell of something coppery hit my nose. Blood? I flicked the light on and my stomach lurched. My older sister Kiley, was lying on the blue and green tiled floor, blue eyes shut, blood trickling from her writs. I didn’t realize I had started screaming until my dad was pushing me out of the way, hair wild and dishelmed,

“Jesus, Lani, what are you screaming for?...” he then saw the sight before me, “ Shit! Kiley! Kiley!”

He was on the floor by my sister, knees soaked with her blood shaking her body. Her skin had an eerie color to it, translucent instead of her usual pink tint.

“Stop screaming Lani!” my dad turned to me with misty eyes, and immediately my mouth shut, “Go in the bedroom with your mother and call 911.”

I turned and rushed down the hall. My mother was pulling her robe on; her face flushed and worried, “Lani, what’s going on?”

I couldn’t speak. If I said anything I’d lose it. So I stood there mouth opening and closing, like a goldfish. Finally, I could at least string together a few words, “Kiley.... 911... Oh my God there’s so much blood,”

My mother wasted no time in calling the ambulance and then we both ran back down into the bathroom. My mother took the role of screamer, and my dad was sobbing holding Kiley. Dead Kiley. My sister was dying was dead.

It felt like I was watching a scene from a movie. I watched myself lean over the bathtub and throw up my dinner. I watched my mother collapse into a ball on the floor, not caring if she was also covered in Kiley’s blood. I watched myself let the Paramedics and the Police in. The flashing lights caused an eerie haunted glow around the neighbourhood. People stepped outside in their bathrobes wondering why there was so much noise on a seemingly innocent Wednesday morning. The morning my sister committed suicide.

It was a numbing filling watching the body bag that I knew held my sister, wheel out on the stretcher into the ambulance. A sympathetic policewoman offered me a blanket. I hadn’t realized the whole time I’d been shivering clutching myself as tears rolled down my face. I took the scratchy material and almost laughed at the irony of the situation. Almost.

My parents came down soon afterwards. My mother was a complete wreak screaming and crying into my father’s rumpled nightshirt. A police officer came and asked me questions: Was I close to Kiley? Was Kiley still alive when I found her? What time did I walk in? Did Kiley ever show signs of being suicidal?

I can’t even remember the things I said.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He tipped his head at me and turned to return to his squad car.

Our loss. Like a pair of keys. Not like my sister just died.