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I remember the way when we were children your blood spilled on my hands after you fell over. I hoisted you to your feet, and hushed you as tears pooled and you ugly cried as I carried you home. The way your nose would scrunch up and you would fervently shake your head every time I would tell you that we were having something other than Brioche at tea time.
I remember the way you silently flicked your hands, the way you would yell at me and beg me to do something, anything to get rid of the girl who made problems for you. I wanted to scream and cry, but I would always quietly smile.
Anything for you.
I remember the way I always wished for you to remember how we were as children. How I pleaded with the public not to hate you. How I stained my hands with your crimes, and watched as you cried into your pillow over a boy who didn’t love you, and I pleaded with myself, wishing for him to love you back so you wouldn’t suffer.
My dearest sunshine, my sister. I would give anything for you and that is what I did. I wanted you to be happy, and I pray and hope that is what I achieved.
I wonder if maybe I had run with you that day, if we hadn’t traded clothes, and I had pulled you out that door and far away, maybe things would have been different. We would just be us again. We could start over somewhere far away, and I could make you Brioche and Tea and we could play games and study together and leave all of that far behind us, and Everything would be right again, and I would have you, and I would still be there for you.
I wonder how I could have saved us. Both of us, and stayed with you to protect you and be with you again. The taste of brioche on the tip of my tongue makes me remember you, and wonder if you do the same. If anything brings back the string of memories of me that something does to me about you.
I miss you dearly, my sister.
All my love and loyalty, forever yours,
Allen.