The Green Door

My sister is strange, to say the least. My parents like to think that she's "autistic" when that is clearly not true. They had her taken to the doctor and it was confirmed that she was not, in fact, autistic. My parents still delude themselves. I hate it.

Amara, my sister, is turning fourteen this year. I'm just about to reach my eighteenth birthday, and am less worried about her strange habits and more focused on getting into Cornell, which was unlikely because I totally flunked my SATs. Another advantage of having Amara as my little sister was that my parents didn't give an actual shit that I had messed up my future and were worried about my sister whose actions were becoming more and more bizarre.

How is my sister strange? Great question.

It all started when she was about 6 or 7, ad set the neighbor's house on fire. Her reasoning for it was that she wanted to "help" him. Thankfully, our neighbor was a nice old man who didn't press charges and told the court that it was him who set it on fire.

Then she almost ripped off someone's scalp because she wanted to "help" them.

She even almost killed someone by literally adding poison in their coffee. Luckily, they survived.

Obviously, Amara is dangerous and should not be kept in an environment with other people. My parents think otherwise and believe, or at least hope, that if she stays around other people, she can regain her sanity. Yes, my sister has been declared insane several times. My parents promised not to let her hurt anyone and had to go in and out of court for years to be able to keep Amara.

Now, is my sister an inconvenience? No, no, of course not.

She is a disaster. She is the worst thing to ever happen to me. Remember what I said about my parents not carung about my SATs. Yeah, they literally don't even know that I'm going to graduate in a few months. They probably won't even grace me with their presence at my graduation because of my sister. I hate her.

Now, let us move on to the scary part. You know, the interesting one.

A while back (think one week) I woke up late at night all of a sudden, at about 3 AM, I think? I felt thirsty, like every other person about to be slaughtered in a slasher film, and went speeding down the stairs. Just like in any other horror movie, I heard some voice from the kitchen. Nah, not clanging of pots or sharpening of knives, but rather someone knocking (?) on a door. But I was not going to be an idiot this time, and I zoomed right up to my parents' bedroom and told them about what I heard.

They were expectedly annoyed, but got out of bed and went to check what was happening. They reached the bottom of the stairs, went inside the kitchen, and my oh my, never have I heard such horrified shrieks.

My sister was knocking at a green door that had appeared out of nowhere, and was fully covered, head-to-toe, in blood.