Sibling Rivalry

     I hate my sister. 

     Now, I know what you are thinking. That is one of those things people say, but don't really mean. I think that I am one of the only people that I have ever known that actually means it. I absolutely, one hundred percent, beyond the shadow of a doubt, despise her existence. 

     Before you think ill of me, I should mention that things haven't always been this way. We used to get along wonderfully. Some of my best memories are of us playing dolls together in the little pink dollhouse that our father had built for us. With her being the big sister, she usually got to say which doll got married, which one had to go off to college, and which doll was the mistress to the husband doll. Once in a while, she would let me throw my ideas into the mix, but mostly, I was just content to hang out with her. 

     Now, however, things are not the same. When I'm playing with my dolls, she will take them from me and pull the heads off for no reason. In fact, any toy I pick up, she tries to steal and break. She comes around when I least expect it and pinches me in the back of my arm. You know that place that feels like it is catching fire when someone twists up the soft skin back there? At night, she keeps sitting next to me, whispering horrible, nightmarish things into my ear just to keep me too scared to fall asleep. Oh, and let me not forget to mention the time I was taking a bath, and she came in and shoved my head under the water. She held me down so long, that I was sure I was going to drown. She only let me up once my vision started to get blurry.  

     I used to try to tell my parents what she does to me, but I found out early on that it was pretty useless. My dad, who I never really see anymore without a drink in his hand, tells me to go away, and that he is sick of my games. My mother, on the other hand, gets hysterical by me just mentioning my sister's name. 

     So yeah, I hate my sister. I just wish we could go back to the way things were before she died.