Little Sister

Seven

My name is. I am seven years old. I have four people in my family. My mum, my dad, myself, and my sister. My sister is 12. I love my sister. She is the best sister. My sister loves me too. All my family loves each other. I like the colour red a lot. We have some apple trees in our garden. In the summer it grows big red apples. They are very yummy. My sister teached me how to pick the apples yesterday. I climbed up the ladder but I fell down and hurt my knee and started bleeding. But my sister said I was a very brave girl because I did not cry and I was happy. My sister is very nice and caring and I love her very much.

Ten

My name is. I am ten years old. I live with my mum and my dad and my sister in a small farm by the river. We have a huge apple orchard, and my sister and I sometimes go down there to pick the fruit on Saturday afternoons when school isn't on. We did this since I was little, but it's a little different now. My sister seems a little bit more tired than usual, and she comes back from school late sometimes. I think its extra schoolwork. I really hate schoolwork, and because she's older than me, she gets more. Anyways, last night we were cutting apples to prepare for the apple pie, but I accidently cut my finger. It was bleeding a lot, and it also hurt, but my sister got me a bandage and blew on it. Unfortunately some of the blood got on my sister's new dress, so we are trying to wash it off. But I guess some stains just can't be wiped off.

Twelve

My name is. I am twelve years old. I live with my parents- wait, no. I live with my mother and my sister. My dad has been sick with cancer, and we had to go send him to the hospital in the city very far away. We are hoping for the best, but secretly I don't think there's any hope for him. I think my sister thought the same thing because now she's always so down. Sometimes she locks herself inside her room for a long time and doesn't come out. I don't think she sleeps very much, either, because there's always bags under her eyes. But she still always plays with me out in the orchard, and she bakes very good pies. I'm getting better too, but sometimes I still accidently cut myself, or burn myself. I think the same thing happens to my sister all the time because once she rolled her sleeves up to put the pies in the oven, and then I saw these weird crisscrossed scars on her arm. Even awesome people make mistakes.

Thirteen

My name is. I am turning fourteen tomorrow. My father passed away recently because of his cancer. His funeral was a week ago. My sister didn't say much during the whole thing, but my mother and I were crying bucketloads. My sister tried to cheer us up during the thing, and kept trying to make efforts to smile, but since he died I think the happiness was sucked out of our family. I don't know what we are supposed to do now. We planted flowers next to his grave, and I planted an apple tree. I visit it every day after school. My mother is busy now- she can barely spend any time with us since she's working to fix up the loss of money in our family. My sister has to look after me, but she doesn't really. She's silent a lot, but she still hangs out with me sometimes. It's different on the farm now.

It's really quiet.

Fourteen

…

I don't know.

It doesn't really matter what my name is.

It doesn't really matter who my mother is.

It doesn't really matter who my father was.

Because my sister can't bandage another one of my cuts or blow on my burns.

She can't bake her pies anymore.

She can't catch me when I fall from a ladder.

She can't be nice or caring anymore.

Her silence is done.

My sister is dead.

We found her on her bedroom floor, lying down, the blood dripping down her ribs like the river next to our farm. A knife planted in her chest. The police came and said it was a suicide. I don't want to believe it. But it's true. No one else was there for miles, and my mother was far away at work. They found her DNA on the handle.

…

I c o u l d  h a v e  s t o p p e d  h e r.