Prejudice (part two) - by Hajara Muhammed-Sadiq

I knew that her parenting skills were unorthodox. And every time I tried to make a formal complaint, my sister would stop me. "She's our mother" ,"We have no one else" she would say. So the maltreatment continued for months and months turned to years. In the final moments up to me going to college, I had nothing but fear rippling through me. How would I leave my sister behind?. I was her consolation. But to my surprise, she was nothing but supportive. She wanted me to live my life and even decided to attend a community college in the same town so she could take better care of our mother. It was selfless of her. I wished I had the same compassion. I barely remember saying a goodbye to my mother. Her exact last words to me were, "It's good you're going far. We're better off without you". I tried to imagine it was her own delusional way of saying she would miss me. Perhaps as time would go on, a change would come. The following years were simpler because coming home held less stress and anxiety than before. This was not because of the change I had hoped for. This was because, my mother had become gravely ill as the years rolled out. She had in control only a few motor senses. She could barely stand and had to use a wheelchair. She couldn't feed, bathe or change her own self. She was practically weak and bedridden. The doctors couldn't pin point the reason for this and sought to blame old age. And we chose to believe them. One would think that my mother's heart would have melted away it's hard shell, but it didn't. I remember a time, I sat beside her, attempting to feed her some soup. My sister walked in with a glass of water and at that moment, my mother raised her arm and pointed to her. "Murderer" she called out as she stared at my sister. But my sister simply ignored her, placed the cup of water on the table and walked out of the room. I felt a pang of hate run through me. How could she still hate the only person who had sacrificed her life just to stay with her and cater to her needs. In that moment, I thanked God for punishing her with this illness and hopefully she would die this way. And that was the moment I did it. I made a phonecall to the nearest old age home and quickly requested that they take her in. I claimed that we couldn't afford the special care she needed and that we needed them to admit her. They did just that. The following day, they came in and took her. In the two years she spent away from us, neither me or my sister ever visited her. She could no longer torment us. But all of that was over now. My sister and I could finally breathe. Earlier today we held her funeral. My mother was now six feet under. On this particular night, I stayed beside my sister and watched her as she slept. She cried a little, suprisingly. I didn't shed a single tear. But that was the difference between my sister and I. She was the most caring and selfless soul I had ever met. I placed my hand of her hair, wondering if she missed our mother or if she felt relieved by her death. But that didn't matter right now. We could now live good lives. As I stood up to leave her room, I stumbled over something. It was a little book. A diary I guessed. I'd seen my sister with it sometimes. I assumed she had outgrown scribbling in her little diary. But then again my sister had always been the quiet type. She kept her emotions hidden for the sake of us both. I understood that. Quietly I opened a page and read through it. I smiled as I read her silly stories. Most were about me and our time as children. She described how we played and how we were each other's best friend. "My sister is the only one I trust", she wrote. How sweet, I thought. "No one understands me like my sister" she wrote again. I skimmed through the pages quietly so as to not wake her. But then my attention was fixed on a page. It read, "I rocked the boat silently and watched him as he begged me to stop. Eventually he fell into the lake and never came back up. Now daddy is gone, there's no one to tell me what to do. I can lay all day in the sun and play with my sister, whenever I want". At first, this confused me. But the next thing I read, cleared up my confusion as quickly as it came. " I am locked up like a rat. Mother knows what I did. And now she promises to make me pay for it". And another, " My sister spends more time with Roxy than me. I hate it. Everytime I see that disgusting dog, all I want to do is break its neck. Mom caught me one time trying to choke the dog and now she locks her out every night so I won't get to her. It's a good thing I know where the rat killer is. I'll slip it in roxy's food when no one's looking". The last words I read sent chills down my spine " Its the first time I'm going to visit mum since my sister had her commited. She's exactly as I left her, lifeless and empty. Those pills surely did a number on her. She deserved it. After her years of hate, I made her pay in my own way. I made sure the pills ate her brain out. How tragic. I thought she would beg me to take her away when she saw me today. But all she did was stare at me with so much hate. I grabbed the pillow off her neck and covered her face. She struggled but not nearly enough for a weak mute. Eventually she stopped. I knew she was dead. I always wanted it to be three of us together after dad died. We would be the perfect family. But she had to ruin it. She never should have found out about dad or roxy. She never should have tried to seperate me from my sister. But everything will be fine now. It's going to be just my sister and I. We will be best friends again. This time no one will stop that". At that moment, there were no words to describe how I felt, I turned around to stare at my sister who had been sleeping earlier. But my eyes met with her's. She laid on her bed quietly and stared right back at me. And it was in that moment, I knew my whole life had been nothing but a lie.

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