• “Please, Mom?” My sister was almost down on her knees, pleading with mother to let her go to the party. I did not know what was so important about this event, but it seemed very important to my older sister. “Everyone is going to be there!”

    “I said no, May. Why don’t you understand what that means?” My mother's face looked frustrated, but she kept it well hidden as she fought with May for the millionth time.

    “Gah!” My sister’s hands flung up into the air, her drop-dead gorgeous face squeezing into a look of even more displeasure. “You never let me do anything!” May screamed right into Mothers face. I saw bits and pieces of saliva explode out of her perfectly shaped mouth. May stormed away up the fragile stairs. I cringed as the sneer of a slamming door crushed into a horrible noise that seemed to scrape at the inside of my eardrums. I could hear May cursing upstairs, using the many words mother taught us not to use.

    My blank eyes stared at my Mother, who neatly tucked a stray strand of graying hair behind her ear in an attempt to replace it back into her tidy little bun. Her shaky hands brushed away at her long, grey skirt as her head turned towards the place in which I was hiding. I wrapped my arms around myself, and tried to be as small as possible; I did not want mother to know that I was spying on her and May again.

    Her curious nature seemed to pick out my presence and her mouth went agape. “Hunter?” she whispered. I hated what her voice sounded like, all strangled and croaky. She never really was the same after the accident…just like me. “Hunter? Is that you?”

    I stood, tipping my head down so my chin was resting against my chest. Looking through my hair, I saw Mother’s hands fly up to her wrinkled cheeks and she gasped.

    “You were doing that…that horrible thing again!” Spying, Mother. I was only spying. She shut her eyes tightly; in a desperate attempt to close me out, to think I was nothing but a dream again. “That was only between me and May! Why do you do such …such wrong things?” I looked at her squished up face and sighed silently to myself.

    Suddenly, she stood up and ran right past me, into the kitchen. Not two seconds later, there was the clash and clutter of pots and pans as mother tried-desperately tried-to busy herself.

    I shoved my hands into my jean pockets and walked upstairs. I needed to see what May was doing. I was too concerned about her to just let her do this. She was being very reactive, and I needed to help her. Besides, what else would a little brother do when his sister was hurting all over?

    I had not even noticed that when I reached the wooden door, there was no noise coming from the interior of the room. Just a quiet shuffle every so often and another noise that sounded like something plopping into an already-filled container. It was starting to get very annoying.

    I lifted my left hand to the fraying wood. My mind immediately refused to touch the door; my paranoia of things sticking into flesh seemed to be taking over. Nevertheless, I needed to talk to my sister, and this was just the first step. If I never even attempt the first step, how can I ever finish?

    I knocked, only once. The door felt strangely soft beneath my knuckles, and I shot my hand up to my chest, covering it with the other hand as soon as I had heard the noise of the knock. The noises behind the door seemed to stop. I could not hear anything but the continuous clatter in the kitchen below.

    “Who is it?” my sister’s voice snapped from behind the door. I didn’t say anything, as usual. There was silence. “Hunter?”

    The door opened a crack, and I backed away from it with a jump. My sister’s beautifully stunning blue eye appeared before me inside of the crack. She stared at me for a moment.

    “Come in,” she sighed.

    I walked awkwardly inside of her room. I did not come in here often enough to feel comfortable in it. Stiffly, I stood in front of her bed, staring emotionlessly at the large suitcase filled probably halfway with clothing, along with other miscellaneous objects. What is she doing? I thought to myself. I suddenly became very worried, but my face did not show it. I was good at hiding my feelings.

    May interrupted my thoughts by throwing something else into the pile. I looked at her face questioningly.

    “What?” she snapped. She was wearing those skimpy clothes again. I hated it when she did that. Why would she even want to display herself like that? Those shorts were too short, and the shirt was too...I didn’t even know if that could be considered a shirt.

    I kept staring at her through my hair, waiting for her to talk.

    “I’m running away, okay?” Her voice was angry, her teeth seemed gritted as she tried as hard as she could to be nice to me. “I can’t stand it here. Too many rules.” She shook her head slowly. “I think she’s finally gone crazy. Haven’t you seen the way she acts? She’s crazy.”

    I stared at her more. I had no intent on talking to her. I was simply going to show her, through my actions, that what she was doing was wrong.

    Memories remain in minds forever. No matter how much we may forget, the memories are still there, and sometimes just need to be discovered over again. The night of the accident, that horrible, horrible accident, remains in my head, as one of those memories you know you will never forget. The yells, the screams, the screech of the brakes as both drivers tried to prevent a crash, the way my father was snoring as he died…I remembered it all.

    It was dark outside, two minutes past midnight. My father did not want to stop; he wanted to make it home that night, no matter the consequence. The trip had been long, and unpleasant, neither my sister nor I liked the car ride at all. My Mother was normal back then. She was asleep when we smashed into the other car on the freeway; she had no idea what was happening; that is why she is probably so messed up right now. I think I was the only one awake when we actually hit. May had been asleep for some time, mother was out cold, and father fell asleep at the wheel.

    Nothing went as it was meant to. I remember someone from the other car coming out of the wreckage in the darkness and walk around. I could hear voices, but none of them was familiar enough for me to respond to them. My mind and body felt limp; I could not move. Things were touching me, all of them freezing cold. I could feel things sticking out of me in every angle possible. Then something warm touched my neck, and I screamed. I remember screaming for so long, I was not sure if I was even screaming at all anymore. Then it was dark.

    I remembered the lights, the lights that meant rescue for me. Bits and pieces of the ambulance ride to the hospital seemed vacant in my mind. I cannot remember any of that ride. The next thing I remember was waking up to a white room and a tall man in a white robe was standing beside my bed. My father was standing beside the man. I saw them for only a moment before they vanished. I remember being surprised out of my mind, not being able to comprehend what was happening to me.

    When I saw my sister for the first time after the accident, she was sobbing beside the bed in which I laid in. she was crying. When I tried to ask her what was wrong, nothing came out but a hoarse squeak. She cried some more before telling me that father was dead and that mother was in critical condition…and then she told me that I was in a coma, and I have lost the power to use my vocal chords.

    I stared at my sister; she was now zipping up the suitcase.

    “Zane is coming to get me,” she whispered. “Don’t try to stop me.”

    I brought up all my courage and looked her straight in the eye. “Please… d…don’t…l…l…leave,” the words staggered out of my mouth. The noise I made sounded horrible; it was dry and cracked. I could barely even understand myself.

    Her eyes went wide. “Did you just say something?” She walked right up to me, put her hands on my shoulders and shook me. “Did you just say something?”

    “Don’t leave,” I closed my eyes shut tightly, “Please!”

    She shook me more “Why not, huh?” she started to cry; it reminded me of the night in the hospital, “Why not?”

    “I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t think Mother would like it either.”

    “Oh that crazy old woman wouldn’t even care!”

    “You would think that,” I whispered, my throat was starting to ache. “But I’m pretty sure Mother loves you a whole lot more than you’re giving her credit for.”

    She laughed in mock anguish. “Yeah. Right.”

    “Please,” I whispered, “Think of all of the people who you will hurt if you leave…”

    She was quiet for about a minute. Her hands fell down to her sides as she looked up at me with a glare on her face. It looked very unusual on her stunning face.

    “Get out.”


    My sister chose to stay. I chose to never talk again after that. I stayed silent unless something was wrong with either my mother or my sister and they needed some advice of some kind. I liked to help them, but it hurt to talk.

    May stopped wearing those horrible clothing, and she stopped doing the wrong things. I knew she did drugs with her boyfriend, Zane, and now…now she did not. She has not talked about Zane in a long time, and it makes me happy. It makes her happy, too. She is no longer moody all of the time; she is normal again. She is my sister again.

    Mother brought me to the hospital to check out my vocal chords the other day. I was extremely nervous. The doctor made me talk to him, and make many strange noises as tests. The doctor said they must have not examined the x-rays right, because my vocal chords were getting better… and they weren’t supposed to.

    I finally found the will to talk again, and it was all because of my sister. My heart will always have a special place for her, and it will never fade, only strengthen.