That day,
that treacherous, torturous day,
is a ghost,
a shadow,
that never leaves my side.
She left the house,
fuming,
at me.
And I was,
raging,
at her.
Over stupid,
little, arguments.
Late at night,
the phone rang.
My mother answered it,
she told me what happened.
I dropped,
my body in agony,
I was slammed into the ground,
by the pain I felt.
A car hit my sister,
and I felt her pain,
along with my own.
All I could think,
all I could remember,
was our argument.
And how mad we were,
at each other.
The last thing,
my sister would remember,
about me,
is me hating her,
and yelling at her,
and screaming at her,
she wouldn't remember,
that I love her.
As that night went on,
I cried.
Every single second was filled
with heart wrenching sobs,
that came from my own body.
I didn't know if she would die,
I didn't know if she was badly hurt,
I didn't know she would get hit,
by a car.
A **** car.
If I knew that,
I would have never argued with her.
But it's too late to change that.
Even later,
my father came home,
and I was sitting on the floor,
staring at the wall.
Just waiting to hear about my sister.
Just waiting to hear the horrible news,
that my poor father would have to bestow on me.
I prepared myself,
for the blow,
and my father spoke the words,
I did not think
that I would hear,
"She's okay."
Never argue with your loved ones, you may not be as lucky as me to get a second chance to make things right, always let them know just how much you love them, because at the moment when you least expect it, they can be taken from you, right out from under your nose.