WHAT IS THICKER THAN WATER?

 

"I heard from Lois that Marice was your sister. Um... I'm sorry for your loss."

The twentieth person, and still counting, approached me, spewing the same boring line as if they were entitled and expected me to believe they actually cared, as if they were human too.

"Sorry about what?" I snorted. Loss? There was no loss.

Marice and I had never been close! I burst into laughter, causing some students in the hallway, mostly freshmen, to pause and stare. I glared back at them, and they quickly scurried away.

We were more like neighbors. She was a stubborn and unrelatable kind of neighbor, too big to connect with others unless she needed something.

We only saw each other at dinnertime and occasionally on weekends. It's not like we lived far apart; we shared the same yard, the same roof, and the same hallway that led to our rooms. Hers was directly across from mine.

I remember when Mom returned with Dad, finally ending their thirteen-year separation. That was when we met. I finally got to see my twin sister! The excitement that made me embrace her warmly dissipated when she slapped and flung me to the floor with anger. Or when I would sit in front of my room, gazing at hers until I fell asleep, only to be abruptly awakened by her forcefully kicking me with her foot. Or when foolish me still believed in change and attempted to initiate a conversation, and she snapped at me. What did she say? "Don't assume that just because we look alike, we are blood sisters. Sleep on that, dummy."

Well... I didn't sleep for three nights. I couldn't. During those nights, while burying my tear-stained face into my pillow, I silently vowed to never seek closure from her or rely on her.

So now, why are they apologizing to me? Sorry? For my loss?! HOW THE HELL DOES THIS CONCERN ME?! How the fuck does my emotional state connect with this drama?

Though it's my fault... if only I had accurately calculated when she would be at Dad's company, I could have been there, and everything would have been perfect-ier (if there was even such a word).

Seeing her lifeless body at the funeral last week pained me so deeply that I even cried and harmed myself! I could have timed it perfectly when she would leave for her favorite spot in front of the skyscraper's transparent windows, gazing at the sprawling city below, just as Father would depart his office for his endless conference meetings. It would have been so easy to push her against the glass.

Her body would have given way, I would have grinned brightly. A hand in Sphernocke's County, her head and some vividly colored organs splattered along the cross-country highway below, her legs resting on the rooftop of the large shawarma joint to the left, while the rest of her blood painted the bright surfaces of the building and the grey-tarred road with a vivid red hue.

Frowning, I angrily pulled my hair back, surprised at how I made her death seem too effortless.

Stuffing her into the large, busy washing machine in our private laundry room wasn't satisfying enough for me.

No one suspected it was a murder case... not yet, at least. But from the looks of it, Mom and Dad weren't revealing the reason behind her demise for some unknown motive. They clearly didn't want to stir up any trouble regarding her, given their own past.

Like daughter, like parents, apparently. Hahaha.