1 month
It’s been a month. A whole month without Mila. Even saying her name hurts my heart, and it’s like having broken ribs. No one can see it, but every time I breathe it hurts. And yeah, it is hard living in the same house that your own flesh and blood was killed in. The room to her door still has bright yellow caution tape around it, and gives me the chills.
I’m gonna be very honest right now. No, I don’t blame my sister for her death. No, I don’t blame my parents for letting me leave her home alone. No, I don’t blame Akila for having her party that night. But you know who I do blame? Myself. I blame myself for going out that night. I know damn well that if I was home that night, I would’ve been able to protect her. And maybe I would be in the hospital fighting for my life instead of my sister laying six feet under in a oak wood coffin.
My sister was the best person I knew. Even though I didn’t show it a lot, which I regret so much, there’s no way in hell that anyone can tell me that I never liked her. I mean yeah, she could be annoying sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I hated her. She had such a bubbly personality. We were polar opposites, but I think that’s why we got along so well. She had bright blue eyes with a Carmel skin tone and almost black hair. She had these adorable little freckles on her nose and cheeks just like me. We looked so alike, and that’s why it’s so hard to look in the mirror. Except for our eyes. I have light gray eyes. Almost white, just like my dads. My sister had my moms eyes. My sister had my fathers hair, but with a small hint of golden brown. I have my fathers jet black hair. My parents are both great people and we have a huge family business. I’m not allowed to know anything about it till I’m 17, but it requires me to know how to fight and use multiple guns. Me and my sister also had to keep a friend group to a limit as well, and to get close to at less people as possible, which is kinda odd.
Anyways, let’s get back to Mila. She had an iron deficiency, which caused her to black out faster than a person with an average iron count, as well as the amount of blood she lost. My sister was shot 3 times, and that’s to much for a kid who had just turned 10 not even 2 weeks ago. She was shot in her left shoulder once, tearing her rotator cup. Once in her stomach, grazing a major organ, and once straight through the head. I just couldn’t figure out why someone would want to kill such a small, fragile girl. Maybe if I took her place we’d both be alive. I would take those 3 shots for her any day. It hurts to think that I could’ve stopped this from happening.
The only thing anyone had said to me for the past month is, “ Lina, it’s not your fault, you need to eat. Please come out of your room..”. Which is why I’ve locked myself in my room for the time. I didn’t wanna deal with people lying to me. I didn’t answer any calls or texts. I just layed in darkness, only getting up to use the bathroom when my parents left, and grabbing the little food I wanted for the day. My father is only 36, and he is very buff, so I’ve been wondering why he hasn’t tried kicking my door down. It’s their choice though. Yes I know this isn’t very healthy but I need to isolate myself from the cruel world of ours.
