Jake’s mother was a friend of my mother, and
she had taken me in to raise me.
And so, Jake became my brother.
She was a kind and gentle woman, but good
people never seem to live long.
Two years later, Jake’s mom passed away
from leukemia.
Rumors began to spread.
“That girl, she must be cursed, right?”
<
“Makes sense. First, she killed her parents,
and then she killed the kind woman who took
her in…”
“Tsk, tsk, that father better be careful, she
might kill him too.”
The adults took the gossip home, and told
their children. At school, I became the
“cursed one“, the “burden“.
They would carve things into my desk, throw
trash in my desk drawer, and they would
corner me in the bathroom, drenching me in cold water to “exorcise the evil.”
And that’s why Jake watched over me like a
hawk every day. He’d yell back at the people
who called me names, beat up the ones who
bullied me. He’d wait for me at the classroom
<
door after school each afternoon, and if I
didn’t come out, he’d go look for me, class by
class.
But Jake was just a kid, too.
He was sad and scared, losing his mother, his
father not even bothering with him.
I would often find him hiding in the closet. He
would be huddled there, his eyes red.
I would climb in and hug him.
There were still a few of Jake’s mother’s
clothes in the closet. We would wrap
ourselves in them, as if we could still feel a
bit of her warmth, a bit of her presence.
Late at night, he would softly sing nursery
<
rhymes, hugging me to help me fall asleep.
“The stars at night can sing…”
“On lonely nights, it’s singing with me…”
Everything in the house was run down,
covered in dust.
The large pieces of furniture were covered
with white sheets, like dead bodies, silently standing in the tombs of the past.
I had hidden some of my parents‘ belongings
in the closet.
But, right then, I heard a rustling noise
coming from the closet.
It sounded like something was moving around
<
I was worried that a rat had gotten in the
closet and was messing up my parents‘
things.
So, I whipped off the white sheet, and opened.
the closet door.
What I saw was completely unexpected.
I saw a small figure curled up in a ball.
It felt like the world was going backward.
We stared at each other.
8–year–old Jake crawled out politely, brushed
the dust off his clothes, and asked,
“Hi, big sister, have you seen my little sister?”
<
“Her name is Amy, she’s a little shorter than
me, and kind of looks like you.” He showed
his height with his hand.
