Still Not Safe

"It wasn't my imagination."

It was dark. So dark that I could barely see a metre in front of me. There didn't seem to be any immediate danger, yet I felt sick to my stomach. I didn't understand why, but I felt nervous, like something bad was about to happen. 

Nothing bad was going to happen, I repeated that sentence in my head a billion times, trying to convince myself. It wasn't working, if anything, it made it much worse. If nothing was wrong then I wouldn't feel the need to reassure myself.

So what was making my stomach sink to my knees? I couldn't see a thing, it was so quiet I could hear my breath echoing in the air. Deep breaths, keep calm. Everything is fine. You'll see.

And suddenly I did see, lights flickered on and I realised I was sitting in the middle of a road, the street lights illuminating my surroundings. I could see everything in perfect detail, except I was wrong, so very wrong. Everything was not fine. The sick churning in my stomach had been right all along. 

"Rose..." I whispered, my breath getting caught in my throat.

Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, her blonde hair stuck to her face, clumps of it covered in mud. Her usually bright blue eyes were dull, and her hands were tied behind her back. Her arm wasn't cut off. She wore a baggy top, it was ripped and had slid off of her shoulder slightly to reveal a large, gory bite mark on her neck. 

A pair of boot-covered feet appeared next to her, the bottom of their black jeans were tattered and mud-covered, it was clear they had been through a hell of a lot. I was about to lift my head to their face, about to ask if they were okay, who they were, did they need help? 

I didn't get the chance, because suddenly there was a gun aimed at Rose's head. All words of worry for this strange person had slipped my mind, it had become blatantly obvious they were not in need of my help. 

I glanced at my sister, noticing the tears welling in her eyes. She caught my gaze and smiled, a small weak smile full of fear. I reached towards her, desperately trying to crawl towards her, but my efforts were wasted as no matter how hard I tried, I didn't move. I was stuck in one spot. I reached my hand forward, the desperation clawing at me. I had to get to her.

"It's okay," Her voice was quiet and scratchy, it sounded like it physically hurt for her to speak. "Everything will be okay, you'll be okay..."

I shook my head, all of a sudden feeling more like I was the child, and she was the adult consoling me. Like I needed her reassurance. But I was the older sister, it was my job to protect her and tell her that everything was going to be fine. So why did I feel so weak and helpless?

She took a deep breath before ragged coughs racked her small frame, I noticed spots of blood on her hands when she pulled them away from her mouth. She raised them to face me, smiling sadly. "Everything happens for a reason, right?"

"No!" I stood to my feet, my gaze slowly rising until my eyes landed on the culprit. My heart sunk to my stomach, bile rising in my throat, and as the trigger was pulled and my sister fell to the ground, all I could do was stare in disbelief. I didn't believe my eyes, it didn't make any sense. My breaths came in shallow gasps, it was like I had forgotten how to breathe, how to live.

Because the person holding the gun, the person who had killed my sister in cold blood, had been me.

----

The weeks dragged on, dripping with the exhaustion of our sorrow. But every day it got a little easier, and bit by bit we got happier. Suddenly my smile wasn't strained, and the small talk didn't irritate me. I was on a path paved with reassuring grins, fences on either side to keep me from straying anywhere other than acceptance.