Sissy.

When I was younger, I wanted my sister to go away.

I didn’t want her to die, necessarily. I didn’t want anyone to physically hurt her.

But I wanted her to go away.

Not even permanently, just for a while. Just enough time for my parents to shine their gaze on me, just for once. Just for a little while.

But that didn’t happen.

Claire had everything. She was beautiful, popular, smart. She was in every extra-curricular. She received fantastic marks, the principal knew her by name in a good way.

She came out of the womb as the golden girl of the family.

The worst part? She was nice to everyone, especially me.

She went out of her way to befriend me, make a sister connection. When she was 5, she drew pictures of us together. When she was 10, she read my favorite YA series so we could talk about it. She tried everything.

But I couldn’t help but loathe her.

Being outshined by your baby sister is hard enough, feeling guilty about the hate you have towards her is even worse.

Everything changed when Claire entered her senior year of high school. She was 18 and having her dream High School experience. I was in my second year of college by this point, and still living at home.

I was just about to lock myself in my room for the night with my hot date of reality tv, when I heard it.

“Oh, stop it. You’re bad!”

It was Claire’s whispered voice, between giggles, coming from her bedroom.

I paused and stepped closer, who was she talking to?

“Tonight? It’s late! Baby, there’s zero way I could get out of the house without someone seeing…”

Well, well. Perfect little princess is going to sneak out to see a boy. I was practically foaming at the mouth to rat her out to our parents, just to see them disappointed in her for once.

“I know, I want to see you too. I know it isn’t the same over the phone.. Yes, I know you’ve been patient… Okay, I know. Yes. This weekend my parents have a thing, can I finally meet you then?”

I take a closer step to hear the specifics, which makes the floor softly creak.

I hold my breath.

“Hey, I’ve got to go. I’ll text you, okay? Okay, bye!”

I hear her shift quickly and her footsteps coming to her door.

My panic surges and I try to get as far away from her room as possible in a matter of seconds.

Just then, her door swings open.

“Oh! Sissy, it’s you.”, she smiles, out of breath from coming to the door.

“Just going to my room..”, I say cautiously.

Normally I would bite her head off for using the nickname she has always called me, but I let it go. I’ve always hated it, though I don’t understand exactly why.

She smiles at me in relief, and I decide to make sure I wasn’t imagining the earlier conversation I overheard.

“Claire, I wanted to invite you to a concert I’m going to on Saturday, do you want to go? Mom and dad have their party, so we can grab a bite and go?”, I offer.

Her face falls. Claire is always trying to tag along with me to things.

“Oh, that sounds so fun. I would love to, really. But, uh.. I told Marybeth I would sleepover at her house on Saturday.. And her mom is doing a big dinner thing so I told her I would go.. “, she lies, trailing off while toying with her ring on her middle finger.

“Oh.. That’s too bad, maybe next time!”, I tell her.

She must really want to go meet whoever this is, normally she would never turn this down.

I turn and walk towards my room, my hand is on the door when Claire’s voice sounds again.

“You know what, I’ll cancel with Marybeth. She will understand, and we can have sister time!”, she offers.

Crap.

“Oh, it’s okay!”, I quickly say, “We can always do something another time, enjoy your time with.. Marybeth.”

Her smile falters a bit.

“You mean it? We will do something another time? Because I would.. really like that, sissy.”, Claire says softly, and her honest expression almost makes me falter.

Almost.

“Of course, Claire. We have all the time in the world.”, I say opening my door casually.

She smiles brightly, nods, and disappears downstairs.

I’m not a bad person, I promise. I just want Claire to understand how I’ve felt my whole life being the family disappointment.

I don’t even hate Claire.

I just want her to suffer, just a little bit.

*

Saturday came in a flash.

That morning I saw Claire redoing her hair over and over, trying to get her auburn hair to lay just right.

That afternoon, I saw her laying out at least a dozen outfits on her bed, carefully analyzing each one.

I watch her from her open door for a minute while she furrows her brows at each option.

“You’re sure putting a lot of effort into looking nice for.. Marybeth.”, I say, causing her to jump in surprise.

“Oh! Oh..”, she laughs softly, “I think she wants to take photos so I just want to make sure I look nice for them.. I’m probably overthinking it..”

I nod and step into her room, peering down at the unlimited options.

“The green dress, with your denim jacket. Makes your hair look really vibrant.”, I offer, surprising myself.

Her eyes widen a bit as she takes in the small compliment.

“Really? You think so?”, she asks me.

I nod.

“Green is your color for sure.”, I add.

She smiles brightly.

“Thank you.. It’s actually my favorite color too. You can’t go wrong with a sister pick!”, she says excitedly, holding up the green dress on the hanger.

The sudden sisterhood moment starts to make me feel overwhelmed.

I force a smile and begin to walk out of the room before I remember.

“Oh! I’m leaving at 7 for my concert, when is Marybeth picking you up?”, I ask.

She seems confused for a half second, but corrects her face quickly.

“Oh, um, about 7:30. Don’t worry, I’ll lock up before I leave.”, she says casually, opening her jewelry box on her bed.

“Sounds good, have fun tonight.”, I call over my shoulder as I head to my room.

“You too.”, Claire calls after me, and even though she’s only a few feet away, for some reason she already seems so far away from me.

*

The concert wasn’t real.

I had no plans for one, which was also why I insisted she go to her actual plans.

My plan was easy.

I would leave the house at 7:00 pm, grab some food, then circle around for a while. Once Claire was gone, I would go to Marybeth’s house, claiming she forgot something at home. She wouldn’t be there, and then I would call my parents in a fake panic. Causing them to leave their party and come home to track Claire down. Claire gets caught with whatever boy she’s with, Mom and Dad yell at her, she gets the ‘How could you disappoint us like this?’ face, and I revel in their anger.

And tomorrow the dust will settle, Claire will bat her eyes and apologize, and everything will go back to normal.

But for one night, she will get it.

And that’s all I need.

*

At about 8:15pm, I go back to my house, I had to make sure Claire actually left.

I open the door slowly and call into the house.

“Hellooooo! Claaaaire! You still here?”

Silence.

I climb the stairs and look into her room.

She isn’t there, but her denim jacket is on the bed. She must have forgotten it.

“Oh no, Claire you forgot your jacket..”, I say out loud in an exaggerated voice, “I should be a good sister and return this to you at Marybeth’s house. Which you are so, totally at this evening!”

I take the jacket with me downstairs and immediately leave the house, jumping in my car.

I’m almost giddy with excitement.

I drive the 5 minutes to Marybeth’s house, humming along to my music.

When I get there, I open my door and practically skip up the walkway and ring the bell. I then remind myself that I need to play concerned sister and furrow my brows the way I saw Claire do it that morning.

A beat later, Marybeth’s mother comes to the door.

“Oh hello sweetie.”, she coos.

“Hey there! Just coming by to drop off Claire’s jacket, she left it at home and it’s cold outside.”, I say, holding the jacket up.

Marybeth’s mother tilts her head at me.

“Well that is awfully kind of you, but Claire isn’t here. I don’t think so at least. One moment..”, she turns back into the house and calls for her daughter.

Marybeth casually walks to the door, her expression falls when she sees me.

“Honey, is Claire here? Her sister came by to drop off her jacket.”, her mother says, gesturing to me.

“Oh, uh, no. No she isn’t, but she will be! She is coming over.. later. Yeah, later!”, Marybeth stammers.

I widen my eyes and look directly at Marybeth.

“She isn’t here? What do you mean? She told me she would be! Didn’t you pick her up?”, I ask her.

“Uh..”, Marybeth’s cheeks turn pink, as she looks sideways to her mom.

“Marybeth. Do you know where Claire is?”, her mother demands.

Marybeth quickly shakes her head.

I shake my head and inhale deeply.

“Okay, I think I’m going to call my parents…”, I say with a defeated expression.

“Oh honey, at least come inside to call them. It’s cold outside, I’ll make you some tea.”, Marybeth’s mom offers, standing aside to let me pass through.

“Thank you…”, I tell her, pulling out my phone which already has my mom’s phone information pulled up.

And I hit the green call button.

*

About 30 minutes later, I see my parent’s car pull into Marybeth’s driveway.

I meet them at the door with that sad expression I’ve perfected over the last half hour.

“What is happening? Where’s Claire?”, my mom practically shrieks as she walks up the pavement.

I give a resounded sigh.

“I have no clue, Mom. She said she would be here, and I brought her jacket because I saw that she left it at home. But Marybeth said she hasn’t been here, and she doesn’t know where she is..”, I say, looking down at the denim jacket in my hand for emphasis.

My mom puts her hand on my shoulder and looks me in the eye.

“It’s a nice thing you did bringing that to her, if you hadn’t we wouldn’t have known she wasn’t here.”, she says, squeezing my shoulder with her manicured hand.

A small beam of pride wells up in my chest, but I only offer her a sad smile.

My dad, who had been talking to Marybeth’s mom, walks over to us.

“When was the last time you called her?”, he asks, pulling out his phone.

Crap.

I didn’t.

I didn’t call once.

“Oh.. Just a few minutes ago..”, I respond.

My dad nods, and pulls up Claire’s contact info. I see him dial as he steps to the side of the living room with his ear to the phone.

“This just isn’t like Claire.. To disappear like this!”, my mom says.

I feel my shining moment growing.

“It isn’t, you’re right. Do you think she.. lied? On purpose? Lied to you, dad, and me? Maybe she lied to go do something that you wouldn’t have approved of…”, I say timidly, I have to make it sound like I’m coming up with the theory as I’m talking. Really sell it.

As I’m watching the gears turn in my mom’s head, Marybeth and her mother appear in the room again.

Marybeth looks like she’s about to throw up, and her mother has a stern hand on her shoulder.

“Go ahead, tell them what you told me.”, her mother says sternly.

Marybeth is silent.

“I said now, young lady. Or so help me God..”

“Okay!”, Marybeth squeaks, “I don’t know where Claire is. That is true. But I know what she’s doing.”

My mother raises her eyebrows at her.

Oh, here we go.

Marybeth fiddles with the hem of her sweater, looking straight down at the hardwood floor.

“Claire was meeting a boy tonight, and she asked me to cover for her.”

I feign shock on my face.

“A boy?”, my mom asks, “What boy? A boy from your school?”

Marybeth shakes her head.

“No.. No, she.. She met him.. Online..”, Marybeth whispers.

The shock on my face is no longer fake.

“WHAT?”, I yell.

“Oh my god..”, my mom gasps, turning to find my dad.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! She’s been talking with him for a few months, I told her it was not a good idea to meet him alone but she said he was normal and nice!! She said that they video chatted a few times.. I’m so sorry. I’ve been trying to call her since you got here but she won’t answer!”, Marybeth begins to cry, putting her face in her hands.

I hear my dad yelling in the other room.

“Claire! Claire! Baby, where are you? Tell me where you are! Claire!”

I sprint into the other room and see my dad pressing the phone to his ear as hard as he can, his face has turned bright red, tears have sprung from his eyes.

I hear a sound coming from his phone, and I would know it anywhere.

It’s Claire, crying. Wailing.

“Daddy! Please help me, please. I’m so sorry. I’m so-“

Her sentence is cut off by a piercing scream, loud enough to bring Marybeth and her mom in from the other room.

“Claire? CLAIRE? God DAMNIT!”, my dad screams, hurling his phone at the wall, shattering the screen into a million pieces.

My mom has her hand over her mouth, but her eyes are wild with emotions.

“I’m calling the police..”, Marybeth’s mother says, as she scurries out of the room.

My mom begins to sob, and my dad leans his head against the wall. Trying to compose himself.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“She was just supposed to be grounded..”, I whisper.

My father’s head turns up to look at me.

“She was just supposed to be grounded, maybe yelled at, but that’s all. And it would have been fine tomorrow..”, I whisper, looking down at Claire’s jacket I still held in my now trembling hands.

My mother and father make eye contact, before my father slowly crosses the room to me.

“What. Do. You. Know.”

*

It’s been two weeks.

Two miserable, brutal, quiet weeks since Claire went missing.

I’ve been waiting for that feeling of relief. That feeling of getting what I always wanted, for her to go away.

But it doesn’t come.

I take her jacket to sleep with me every night, holding it next to my pillow and curling around it.

I’ve developed an attachment to it, like I’m afraid that if I don’t sleep next to it, the hope is gone. But as long as I have it nearby, I’m connected to her.

My parents have stopped speaking to me since that night.

After the police arrived at Marybeth’s house, they spoke to us all separately.

I told them the truth. That I knew she was planning to sneak out but I said nothing, hoping she would get in trouble.

The officer gave me a sympathetic smile before closing his notepad.

During this time, all they have gathered was that Claire did meet someone online who claimed to be 18 and named “Ethan”.

“Ethan” was careful to not talk about plans or any specifics over text or message, they mostly spoke on the phone. They found phone calls and text messages going back months and months. They did find video calls, but they appeared to have been tampered with. As well as their chats.

Whoever did this, has done it before.

And from the messages, they’ve gathered that “Ethan” knew everything about Claire already, seemingly before she even told him.

And they finally figured out where he picked her up from, and it was less than a mile from our house.

They found his phone, at the park down the road from us, the opposite way from Marybeth’s house. The screen was broken, but it still turned on, my sister was the only saved number.

“Ethan” figured out a way to cover his tracks, but the police keep saying they’ll stay on it.

Every time the phone rings, or someone knocks on the door, my mom just about has a heart attack running to answer.

She will say a few things in passing to me, but she’s just so sad. She just stares at Claire’s photo. Sometimes she cries, but she’s mostly quiet.

My dad, I know he blames me. I’ve tried to explain that I had no idea it was a boy online, I thought it was someone from her class. I would never want her to get hurt.

He doesn’t care.

Especially once the police pulled the records and he realized I never called her myself that night.

“What if you called her? Once you got to Marybeth’s? You could have spoken to her, what if you could have figured out where she was?”, he had asked me.

To which, I had no response.

He leaves the house every day to look for her.

We’ve led search teams, put her picture everywhere, held a press conference.. Everything the police said would help.

We even posted a reward.

But the days pass, and my sister doesn’t come home.

*

It was a Monday when we found out.

When you find out something that impacts the rest of your life, you really zone in on everything around you in that moment.

The wallpaper that had begun to lightly peel above the mantle that held Claire’s soccer photo.

The smell of the Febreeze my mom had just sprayed in the living room when the detective called and asked if he could come by to talk.

The sound of the garbage truck making its way down the road.

If I close my eyes, I’m back sitting on the couch next to my mom. My dad refused to sit, he wanted to remain standing, no matter how much the detective insisted otherwise.

That Monday was the day I found out that Claire was really gone.

And she was really gone, because they had found her.

She was found 40 miles east in a wooded area, or what remained of her.

A hiker had discovered something wrapped in green fabric sticking up out of the ground, and called it in.

It was Claire.

From the autopsy, the detective had said they were able to gather that she had been tortured and brutalized up until the end of her life. Though it was hard to know specifics with what remained of her. Though, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were keeping details from us on purpose, to try to protect us.

And they placed her time of death not soon after she had gone missing.

“And the boy?”, my father asked.

The detective shook his head.

“We haven’t been able to find him, sir.”

I still clutched her jacket while he continued to tell us the news as gently as he could. Though I couldn’t look at the detective, I just stared at Claire’s photo on the mantle. In her green soccer uniform.

Green.

I always liked her in green.

In my time I’ve had to think about Claire, I’ve realized I actually liked quite a bit about her.

I liked her laugh.

Her style.

Her unwavering kindness and optimism.

And that was all I had of her now. These memories, these things I admired but could never bring myself to tell her, and now I never will.

We held her funeral a week later, a closed casket, but there were enough flowers to rival a garden.

We opened the floor for people to speak, and everyone spoke about how Claire had touched their lives in some way.

It became too much, too much to handle.

I retreated to the parking lot to smoke a cigarette in an attempt to gather myself.

I was standing outside for only a moment, when I saw my mom approach from the corner of my eye.

“Could I have one?”, she asked.

I raised my eyebrows, but held the pack and lighter out to her. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag, before staring out into the lot.

We sat there for a moment, in uncomfortable silence.

“She adored you, you know.”, my mom finally says.

I turn to her in surprise.

“No, I mean, she was always good to me, but I don’t think-“, I start.

“She did though, she idolized you. From the moment she understood anything, you were her big sister and she just loved you. Her first real word was ‘sissy’, did you know that?”, my mom tells me, taking another drag of her cigarette.

I stare at her in shock.

“I didn’t know that.. No.”, I whisper.

We sit in silence again, before it’s my turn to break it.

“We were supposed to have more time. We were supposed to become friends later, be there for one another, the whole thing. And if I had just called her.. Or.. Been less jealous.. It’s just not fair-“

“Death is never fair, honey.”, my mom interrupts, tossing the finished cigarette in the dirt and stepping on it with her boot.

I feel my cheeks become wet, it must be rainfall. I reach my hand out to catch a drop, and realize the sky is bright and blue. The wetness is coming from my eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Mom. I wish I had done more.”, I whimper.

My Mom looks at me with a sympathetic expression, and she wraps me into a tight hug.

I let myself cry into her shoulder.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, honey. Just take it one day at a time. That’s all we can do.”, she says into my hair, before patting me on the back and heading back inside.

I sit down on the sidewalk, or collapse really. And just look up at the sky.

I’m not very religious, but I would like to think Claire is looking down on all of us today.

That she’s here, and laughing over the dramatics of the day, but admiring the beautiful flowers that bloomed just for her.

If I close my eyes, I can hear her faint laugh carry through my memory. And I dread the day I will inevitably forget it.

I scratch at my new tattoo on my wrist, remembering to put lotion on it, so I welcome the distraction and pull the small tube out of my bag and roll up my sleeve.

Smiling at the word “Sissy” in green ink, forever etched on my skin.