Harly

Chapter One (Edited 08/2021)

When I was little, my sister packed up and ran away one night.

I woke up as she was slipping out of the bedroom we shared, a couple of bags in her hand. That was ultimately what I heard; her clumsily banging the bags against the door frame. I was a light sleeper, and she was terrible at sneaking out.

"Where are you going?" I mumbled in my groggy, half asleep state, sitting up in bed and watching her freeze before slowly turning to look at me.

What I remember most was that she was crying.

My sister never cried. Even when our dad died. I sobbed for three days straight, but Ella stayed passive by my side, brushing back my hair until I fell asleep with wet, swollen eyes.

Before that, even when the family dog passed away, she didn't shed a tear. Though I cried like a baby then, too.

She claims that, because she's the eldest, she had to be strong for me.

If that meant she couldn't cry, I didn't think I'd ever be strong.

But she was crying now, a bag tossed over her shoulder, and two more in each hand. She was weighed down with bags, making her look so small.

"Go back to sleep, Em." She whispered and, like an idiot, I obeyed. I crunched down back into my bed and closed my eyes, listening to the sound of her trying to quietly walk down the stairs and out the door. There was the sound of a car door opening and shutting, and then finally, it drove down the street, leaving me behind.

Mom didn't make a single effort to have her found. The police weren't called. A missing persons report was not filed. It was as if Ella didn't even exist. One day she was there, and the next, gone.

Mom made me go to school that day, and when I came home, all of Ella's things were gone. I didn't ask, but I suspected mom had them removed. She had this habit of hiding things that made her sad, as apparent by her sudden 'spring cleaning' in the middle of December, where she packed all of dad's things away too. She was never really the same after that. Distant, cold like the December air.

Ella kept in touch with me, though.

I discovered that she had left because she found out she was pregnant. She knew mom would probably have a conniption, and make her get an abortion. She loved her boyfriend and they wanted to try and make it work.

So she left.

Mom had her removed from the list of people who were allowed to visit me in school or pick me up, but I asked the receptionist real nice if she could still eat lunch with me (a little crocodile tears goes a long way) and she'd call me when she knew mom wasn't home.

She kept me up to date on the baby, who we found would be a girl. She chose the name Lacey, thankfully ending the ongoing "E" names my family seemed to pass on for generations.

I listened happily as Ella told me all the progress they made on renting a house and decorating the nursery. How hard her now fiancé, Jason, worked to provide for them as she entered her third trimester and was advised to quit work and rest as much as she could. We made plans for me to come see her and the baby as soon as summer vacation started and I'd have free time to escape mom's watchful eye.

I was already in love with the thought of being an aunt and having a place in a real family. Things were so much more peaceful there, and I was happier than I could admit to be a part of it. It went without a hitch for four full years, sneaking out to see them when mom was at work or asleep. I didn't care about losing sleep for school. I would never sleep again if it meant I could stay with them, in a home with real love and warmth.