The Wrong Sister

Once again, I awoke in the hospital… terrified and in pain. The nurses were quick to offer words of reassurance. Instinctively, I knew it was hopeless for Stacey—but I had to ask anyway. Asking made it real… if it was real. And real was the last thing I wanted it to be. But I couldn’t live in denial if it was. The sooner I faced the truth, the better off I’d be. Or would I? They say that when we look far back in time, it feels as if the person we were twenty years ago was someone else entirely. But I didn’t feel like a single person who had simply changed over time. I literally felt like multiple people, each living separate lives, dying only to come back as someone else in someone else’s world. I didn’t need to look back twenty years; a matter of days was enough to remind me I wasn’t the same person. “Stacey. Stacey!” The look on the nurse’s face told me all I needed to know. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice brimming with sympathy while still holding her professional composure. Then a familiar face appeared. Lisa. “Lisa,” I moaned, pain and despair warring in my voice. “Hey, sweetheart. I’m here,” she said, her voice sad and shaky. “I’m so sorry,” I managed to croak through the pain in my arm. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was an accident, honey.” “But I shouldn’t keep living. Just like last time, I’m the one who survives, and that’s not fair. It’s not fair! She had so much more to offer the world than I do.” Lisa took my hand, her touch steady. “Shhh. It’s going to be okay.” “Nothing is ever going to be okay again,” I shrieked, struggling to move, pain lancing through me. A nurse injected something into my IV. “What’s that?” Lisa asked firmly. “Just a little sedative to help her relax. This… this requires baby steps. The loss, the trauma, the survivor’s guilt…” “Please be careful with her. She’s so little.” “She’s in good hands, ma’am,” the nurse replied. “I should be dead,” I breathed, tears pricking my eyes as Lisa’s sad brown eyes bore into mine. “We can kill me when I get out of here, right?” “Don’t say that.” “We have to. I’m a curse. I bring bad luck to everyone.” “No, sweetie. You don’t.” My eyelids grew heavy, my voice slurring. Lisa lowered her face toward mine. “You’re going to get through this. Together, we’re going to get through this. I promise you that.” “Stacey wouldn’t want you to, and neither would the others.” “Oh, but she would. I promised Stacey months ago that I would be there for you if she couldn’t be for any reason. I’m going to keep that promise no matter what anyone thinks. And even if I hadn’t made that promise, it’s my personal promise to you. I don’t break promises.” “This is my punishment for my evil thoughts.” “Oh, honey,” Lisa said, her voice cracking with emotion, “if we were punished for our thoughts, then everyone would be.” I moaned again, looking down at my arm. “You have a broken arm,” she continued. “I don’t give a shit about that. I need you to take me out into the middle of the desert, or into the woods, and shoot me.” I could see her holding back tears. “You also have a concussion, and several cuts and bruises,” she added softly. “Nothing will ever be the same again if I live.” “Things will be different,” Lisa said, nodding slightly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t adjust—or that it has to be different in a bad way.” “I have to die,” I whispered before the darkness finally rescued me from grief and pain.