Reject

1.

I was only four years old when I first realized that I was not like by others. I guess you could say everyone was against me.

Children would scream and run away from me , as if I were a monster trying to get them.

I never understood what was wrong with me; why did everyone hate me so much? I used to stare into the mirror for hours to find something wrong with me, but I looked just like everyone else.

And there were times when I would just start sobbing because all I wanted was for one person in this world to like me. I would sob in my room at night, when I thought no one was up.

But little did I know that my sister would listen to me every night, and one night she walked in with a grim expression. She sat by me and took me into her arms and she would just sit there and hold me as I cried.

"What's wrong?" she would whisper to me.

"No one likes me," I cried, "Everyone runs from me."

She would look at me sadly, "Well, I like you."

I never knew why those words were so comforting for me to hear from my sister, but they were. And this is how it was every night for exactly one year.

Then, once I was six I was finally old enough to go to kindergarten. I thought that it would be much easier at school to make friends, but it turned out to be much harder. Kids that sat at my table would scoot as far from me as possible and no one would be caught dead with me at recess.

Even the teacher wouldn't call on me during the lessons. I felt so isolated.

I would come home crying, and my sister would just be sitting there waiting on the front porch with her arms opened. Inviting me in for a hug.

"School didn't go to well, huh?" she asked.

"N-No one likes me, Mindy!" I sobbed into her shoulder.

She would hold me and rub my back saying that it would all be okay. 

Once I calmed down enough I would tell her everything that had happened that day and she would just nod her head sympathetically.

My sister was the only true friend that I had ever had; the next day she showed up at lunch sitting right in front of my assigned seat.

I ran over to the table and sat in front of her.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her.

She smiled sweetly, "I thought you would like some company."

I smiled at her and she handed my a bag of lunch that she had made before she came to see me. Everyone stared at us as we ate.

"Hey, is that your sister?" the girl who sat next to me asked.

"Yes," I said proudly.

"Where is her hair?" she said.

About a year ago my sister, Mindy, was diagnosed with stage three brain cancer and as she says; the treatment has been killing her. I looked at her and she was just staring sweetly into the girls eyes.

"I'm very sick," she said softly.

The girl scooted away from us. My sister laughed quietly to herself; it was amusing how others thought her disease was contagious. But Mindy says that it's not like they know what she has.

After lunch, Mindy had me released from school early and walked me home.

"Mindy?" I said.

"Yes, Milton?" she responded.

"How long are you going to be sick for?" I asked.

Her face tensed at the question, and I could tell that she didn't have an answer that I wanted to hear.

"Milton. You're six years old now," she said slowly, "And I think it's time you knew."

"Know what?" I said.

She looked straight into my eyes so I could see the seriousness in her face, but all I saw was tears slowly forming in her crystal, blue eyes.

"I'm always going to be sick, Milly. I will never recover; this sickness will be with me until I die. And I might day any day now."

Her words felt like broken glass cutting into the bottoms of my feet. The realization that my sister wouldn't be able to hold me every time I needed her, that she wouldn't be there waiting for me at lunch so I wouldn't feel so alone, it all just seemed unreal.

Once we got home she said she didn't feel well. Her face was pale, about as white as a ghost some would say.

I remember sitting outside the bathroom for hours just listening to her vomit violently, I was scared out of my mind. I begged her to let me call our mother for help but she insisted that it was just a side effect of her treatment.

When she left the bathroom she went straight for her bedroom, saying that she just needed to lay down for a few minutes.

I would check on her every five minutes, making sure that she was okay. And after the fourth time of checking on her I called my mother to let her know about Mindy's condition, and to my surprise my mother was freaking out. She said that she was on her way home and to absolutely not let Mindy fall asleep.

I ran into her room right as she went to close her eyes.

"Mindy!" I screeched.