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     I can’t believe Cara. She never sees things the way I see them, and she always puts me down for it. All I wanted was for someone to acknowledge the good things I was starting to do with my life. I am forever being cast aside as the wild child, the party girl, the screw up. If my own sister couldn’t be proud of me, who could? Will she ever forgive me for not being home when mom died?

     I was finishing my final semester at Mesa Community College, and I had just gotten word that I was eligible for graduation in August, and I just wanted to celebrate. In three months’ time I would be a college graduate, who would’ve thought. A couple of friends from class invited me to an end of year party, and I had begged Cara to go with me. When I asked her she just rolled her eyes at me and walked away. In my head I heard her saying to me, “Ky, can’t you ever just act like an adult?”

     She always called me Ky for short, I didn’t like it at first but it kind of grows on you after a while. My mother named me Kylianne. Mom always called me Kyli, but ever since she passed away, all I ever hear is Ky. Sometimes I wish I could still hear her voice calling to me before I run out the front door, “Kyli, hunny I love you, be safe.”

     She is gone now and all I ever hear is Cara’s voice, scolding me, judging me, condemning me for every little mistake. All I want is to get out of this house for good. I can honestly say, I don’t remember a time that Cara and I got along or agreed on anything.

     She was conservative, always dressing so clean cut, dry and to the point. She was always business. With her beautiful, blonde hair with long loose curls, long eyelashes, and long tan legs, she always looked older than she was. Me, on the other hand, find me soft, old t-shirt and some faded jeans and I’m happy as a kid on Christmas. I always thought I was more plain. My dark green eyes, pale, light brown, pin-straight hair, and freckled nose. I felt as though I would never look older than eighteen. Cara was always goals and planning. I just liked to take life a day at a time and enjoy the beauty in each moment.

     Now I see no beauty. I’ve been a college graduate for a year, and my Associates degree in Psychology is clearly getting me nowhere. Too bad no one told me in advance that I would likely need two more degrees and passing a credentialing exam from here to land a decent job in the field. My sister, although she won’t admit it, blames me daily for my mom not getting help in time.

     It has been one year, four months, two weeks, and three days since I went to that damn party and all I can ever think about is why couldn’t I just be an adult for one night, stay home and spend time with Mom. I had been picked up at around 10:00 pm on May 5, it was extremely hot out. We were in a severe drought, with water usage restrictions in place, our air conditioner was barely hanging in, and Mom was doing her best to keep cool and stay relaxed, as always. Just as I hit the bottom of the staircase and reached for the doorknob, I heard her, “Kyli, don’t cause too much trouble, I love you forever.”

     “I love you too Mom,” I shouted, halfway through the entryway.

     I always knew in the back of my mind that the heat wasn’t good for Mom’s heart condition, but things like that don’t happen to us. They just don’t. Cara had called me just past midnight, and I hardly understood a word that came out of her mouth. I didn’t think much of it until she started shrieking into the phone and I had to pull the phone away from my face until she stopped. The next thing I heard put me right on my knees, “It’s Mom! Get home quick Ky! I don’t think she’s going to make it!”

     I walked in that front door to my sister sitting on the floor next to Mom, her face bright red and puffy, she had lifted her head from her knees to look at me. In that moment, I knew she hated me, and everything I stood for. I had never seen her light green eyes any other shade than just that, light green. Her eyes were so dark; it was as if I was looking into the eyes of a stranger.

     “She’s dead Ky! And it’s all your fault!”

     I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know what to say, I just stood there and looked between Mom and Cara over and over, until a voice shook me from my trance.

     “Miss, I am very sorry, the coroner will be here shortly,” came from the man standing a couple feet away from me. I jumped; in my panic I hadn’t even noticed that there were paramedics cleaning up their gear and preparing paperwork for the coroner. All I could do was stare at this man, with such kind eyes.

     Now, just over a year since Mom died, I still fear how much Cara truly hates me. There is no small talk any longer. Hell, I’m lucky if I see her, even when I know we are both home. But, after seeking her out this morning to tell her that I planned on going to continue taking classes, that I was applying to Arizona State University, just to be laughed at, I hope I never run into her again. I think I’m starting to hate her too, my only sibling and the only piece of Mom I have left, and I hate her.

Author's Note

Please critique. I need to know where to improve.