I was never sure if she had done it on purpose, not truly. They had been screaming for a time, beneath me in the living room as I lay awake on my back, staring at the shadows on my ceiling. I heard the door slam, the running footsteps, but it was howling scream that came next that made me peer from the window and out into the night. I could see the shape of my sister clawing at her face and the bloodied mess on the driveway pavement. I was certain then that the child was, indeed, my sister’s, for my mother stood from afar clutching my father as Helena touched delicately at the babe’s head.

It was an accident, surely, but part of me thought it could have been her subconscious that willed the child to slip from her arms, for its head to be dashed upon the concrete, for perhaps then the screaming would stop and Helena could come home.

She rocked herself in the driveway for a while, shaking, clutching her arms around her as the blood set on her face, and for an instant I thought she was looking at me before she scratched herself up and ran off.

Mother decided not to follow; Helena would come back, obviously, sniffling and apologetic, as she always had. They’d bury the child and forget the ordeal, and her daughter would resurface into society respectable and proper.

Father left before dawn. He stumbled back the next morning, grey faced and rigid as I’d always known him. He was alone.

Perhaps I was too young to fully comprehend what was happening, but Helena had left many times before, and each time she returned to a stricter household and a colder mother. This time, as I saw her leave, the feeling was different. The babe’s blood speckled our driveway and drove Helena away. Where once she had promised to come back to me, I knew the child’s death had changed that forever. I was alone, now.

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The flyers went up and came down. We were a spectacle for a time, but I barely remember that. I do, however, remember my sister’s absence very strongly.

It wasn’t something one can put into words. It wasn’t as if life changed dramatically - mother and Helena had not been on good terms for as long as I could remember, and her absence proved to be more of a blessing than a curse in that respect.

When I peeked from around the corner into the living room and saw father crying, I knew it was too late. Helena was dead to him, but all I felt was an endless amount of curiosity. In fact, I maintain that it was this moment that saw my ending up where I did, though Hiruko believes this to be nonsense.

He’s had enough of fate, after all.

There was a small gathering to commemorate the disappearance of my sister. They never found her, but a year was closure enough, for my father at least. Mother refused to attend.

After that moment, a stream of hope was cut off. Hope became a childish thing, and so I put it away at the very back of my heart. My despair could not have bred so violently without the constant expectation that Helena would walk through our door. So I put it away, because it’s so much easier to run and ignore then face and defeat. Father and mother tried their hardest to get to know me, to like me, they did, but even today I consider myself quite an unlikeable soul - I blame this all on the disappearance of my sister. Never doubt the strength of the thing that binds two siblings together, whether that be love or hate.

I never understood the gravity of my situation, nor did I understand how bitter it made me. It didn’t seem to impact me as much as one would think. At least, others observed I acted the same as I always had. What they did not understand was how close Helena and I actually were; that I found her running away to be alike to abandonment. My parents were acceptable, but hardly the affectionate pair others proved to be. I understand now they had their own way of showing it. At that time, however, I wanted my sister back with a desperation that clawed at my heart and soul; two years without her had proved almost impossible. There was an itching at my skin, and before I knew it I had repeated her act and caused my parents even more grief.

I followed her into the dark.