There was something so delicate in the way she told me she was scared; it was almost hypnotic.
She was a liar.
It was beautiful the way she held her head high and took the punishment she knew she would get; it was terrifying.
She was a fighter.
The day she took that fist and punched that girl was the day I knew I had lost her; She wasn't innocent anymore.
She was trouble.
We were never close ya know? We never said 'I love you' or 'Have a great day' no... we were just there.
She was gone.
But today I felt bad... I wanted to tell her it would be okay and that she could get out of this rut if she wanted to... but I knew that wasn't happening.
She was changing.
She would turn into our mother soon.. a lowlife nothing.
There was something painful watching her grow up..
Because as much as I wanted to hate her for who she became...
*She was my sister.