Accident Prone

The happiest home can become the most hollow of holes. No trust, no hugs, or kisses, and no kind words. A home that was once lighted and packed full of delicious smells. The echos of laughter were obliterated by shouts, screams, and cries…cries for the death of a loved one.

My little sister is dead. She was murdered in our house. I don'tʼknow how or when. But I remember when I found her. She just laid there. Her broken form at the bottom of the stairs. I stood there staring at her frozen body.

“Get up." She didn'tʼmove, her eyes staring up at me unblinking.

"Get up!" I fell to my knees and gathered her in my arms. Shaking her, I repeated my plea countless times. My vision blurred and spots began to appear sporadically on a dark blue blouse. She always made sure to dress to impress.

It was an accident—it had to be. We all love each other. I mean, we were a family. How could one kill someone they love? I loved my baby sister. I lifted my gaze towards the family game room.

Mom and Pop moved restlessly. Their mouths clamped shut on their grim faces.

Or was that guilt? Which one of them did it? It couldn'tʼhave been me. I had heard her call out to me right before that loud final crack. Help! Bubba! I didn'tʼget to her in time—I was all the way upstairs.

My voice burst through the room, "Why aren'tʼyou calling an ambulance!?" My parents turned to me their grimness disappearing and becoming more sad. They were sad? "Can'tʼyou see she'sʼhurt."

My mother broke into sobs and my father pushed her into a spare chair. He turned back to me and made his way over.

"We're trying to protect you. It was an accident, right?" His hand enveloped my shoulder. "You'll be okay, son. You can plead insanity.” He took a deep breath as his brows furrowed and he blinked away oncoming tears.