Her sister, her life (Part 3)
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She sat there holding her sister, gone now, for what seemed like an eternity. Her warm hands still clutched her own with fear and desperation, but the grip loosened with every passing second. She had expected this day would come, but the rehearsals in her mind didn’t take away any of the pain or the shock or the anger.
Slowly and with as much delicacy and care as she could muster from her weakened, shaking arms, she laid her sister down on the ground, lightly placing her arms across her chest, like she had seen on television. She sat back down beside her, crossed her legs and stared at her sister’s face. Her own face staring back at her, beaten and worn. Through the bruises and the scrapes, she saw her sister’s beauty. Even more so than she could ever see her own. Their features were the same, but her sister’s were softer, somehow. Kinder. Her eyes showed love and sympathy and joy much more than her own ever did.
She heard a cry. It was soft, at first. Gurgly and staccato. Then louder, with purpose. She put her head in her hands and cried fresh tears. Her heart broke once again. Kept breaking. She had forgotten about him.
In all the chaos and tragedy, she had forgotten about him. And now what? She got up with great effort and stood at the sink. Washing her sister’s blood from her unsteady hands, her mind raced through ‘now what?’ But it was less of a question and more of a directional sign toward the obvious. She must wash this horror off her hands, climb those stairs and face what was been written for her future.
She took the steps one by one, her feet dragging the weight of what she left in the kitchen and what was ahead of her. The stairs grabbed her feet with every step and held on for a moment, daring her to try to run. But running wasn’t an option. She was all he had left in the world now and she no longer had that choice.
When she reached his room, she opened the door to find him in his crib. Laying sweetly on his back, reaching for whomever will reach back. She walked over with her head tilted to the side. She wiped away the dampness from her face and she felt a smile creep across her lips. At this moment, he was the sweetest thing. She touched his tiny fingers, delicate and warm. She touched his pink cheek, smooth and pure. She swept her fingertips through his blonde hair, wispy and soft. He was the sweetest thing.
Lifting him from his bed, she cradled him like she never had before. She was his aunt until just minutes ago. She will now be what he will know as his mother. He won’t know what happened to his parents, just that they died and that she loves him as much as she would if she was his mother.
And she will. This tiny, precious boy will be loved.
***
I am participating in the Indie Ink Writing Challenge. Each week I’ll be tackling a challenge issued by another writer participating in the exercise. This week, Cope gave me this:
The grotesque is beautiful, the tragedy is a triumph, the mundane is meaningful, the sin is a sacrament.
Oh my. Hair on my arms and neck standing, making me cry big tears awesome Jen. Just wow.
Oh, thank you. I’m sorry about your tears, though.
thank you for writing this resolution. determination, emotional denouement, and such tenderness amidst the horror. Well done.
Thank you very much.
Incredible. That’s the only word I have.
Thank you.
…wait. Not like “incredible”, like I just wasted your time and you’re disgusted?
Wow. I just read all three parts to this. Amazing.
Thank you! I was hoping someone would read it all together!
oh. my. gourd. I have no words. no words.
I just counted 9.
What a touching end to such a harrowing tale. I was hooked last week and love how you tied this together. Her sister’s life continued on in her own, as it always has. This is a nice story, well told.
Thank you. Glad you liked it last week and came back for more!
My heart could barely handle it when the baby boy came into the story. Great job at tying all of this together.
Thank you. And sorry about your heart.
Oh….Wow. Amazing story.
Thank you, lady.
What a sad story, at least it had a positive ending for the child. That’s how it should be. And better that than to be raised by an abuser (the father) and pass on that terriable “tradition”.
Exactly. Thank you for reading!
I had to read it three times. I didn’t see the baby coming. Wow.
excellent writing Jen
I like throwing you for a loop.
jesus lady. you rocked this hard.
Thanks, woman.
That was spectacular. This definitely rose to and surpassed every expectation within the challenge.
I’m glad I did not disappoint!
You know, I thought the story couldn’t get better after Part 2, but you proved me wrong. A beautiful ending to a powerful piece.
Thank you! I thought there was no way I could turn it into a happy story, but I had to brighten it just a wee bit somehow.
I love how you just keep adding to this story!! MORE!!! NOW!!!
I don’t know where I could go from here! I don’t want to ruin it!
Very vivid descriptions. You did place me inside the story.
Thank you for saying so.
Wow, I’m a little late reading last week’s challenges. But this was great!
Thank you very much!