To You, With Love <3

Three years after my sister disappeared, my parents and I moved to an old farmhouse built on slanted land and surrounded by towering trees.

Our closest neighbors were deer and far too many bugs. The move was long overdue, and we hoped it might help us heal. It felt like a betrayal to Mom—and it was—but it was also about self-preservation.

We had to let Marie go if we were going to continue living. We couldn’t keep clinging to the hope that one day she’d show up at our doorstep, in tears and apologizing.

“I’m sorry for making you all worry!”

Mom didn’t speak to Dad or me for months after we moved. She locked herself in her room, no longer seeing me but looking right through me as if I were a ghost. It made my body burn, and my heart ache.

Dad sympathized and told me to give her space, but I noticed he didn’t look me in the eye either.

I missed my sister and knew my parents blamed me for what happened. They were right—Marie’s disappearance was my fault alone.

\*It should have been you; \* unspoken words hung in the air.

Yes, it should be me instead of Marie, rotting under a pile of dirt, waiting to be unearthed and held.

\*\*\*

Marie often came to me at night—I’d hear her singing from the woods.

Her voice had always been beautiful, and it still was. She pressed her palms against my window, leaving imprints surrounded by frost.

When she smiled, her lips quivered, and her eyes shone like starlight. She whispered my name throughout the night, taught me curses, and hissed enchantments; she sang low and sweet—songs only the dead know.

“It’s not real,” I told myself. “You’re being stupid. It’s just the wind and your imagination.” But the wind doesn’t know my name, and my imagination can’t leave scratches on the window.

I tried to reassure myself that they were simply dreams. Of course, Marie wouldn’t be at my window; I was on the second floor. Of course, my sister would come to the door as we all hoped.

She wasn’t a ghost; she couldn’t possibly be haunting me. I was her twin sister, her best friend. She… wouldn’t.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

And on a foggy morning, I proved myself right.

I found Marie’s locket on my windowsill, coated in thick black mud. She would never have taken it off. My hands trembled as I wiped away the grime and read the inscription. Maybe I was wrong, but once again, I knew I wasn’t.

**“A 2 M 4EVR”**

**“2 U w ❤“**

The sight of it shattered me. I had told myself for years that she was gone, that I had repressed hope, but I hadn’t truly abandoned it. Now, there was no hope left.

\*\*\*

I lost my mind that day.

I ran to the fields and screamed until my throat was raw. I lay on the itchy grass and stared at the sky, watching it darken as the moon bloomed like an iridescent flower.

The fields glittered with lightning bugs. I chased and captured them, ripping their wings off one by one.

Watching their glow fade away made me wonder how long it had taken Marie to die. Had she just lain there, accepting her fate and feeling life drain out of her?

I crushed the bugs, stared at the luminescent smear on my palms, and stuck my fingers into my mouth; it was bitter and sweet.

\*\*\*

The guilt gnawed at me relentlessly. It was my fault Marie was dead. I had pressured her into going to the party. I knew she didn’t want to go—it wasn’t her thing—but I needed a designated driver. The more she refused, the more I cajoled, begged, and taunted her.

“It’ll be fun! Come on! Are you going to waste the rest of your life watching TV with Mom and Dad?”

“God, Marie, don’t you get tired of being the dutiful daughter?”

“How do you think it makes me feel? Oh, Asha, why can’t you be like Marie? Why are you so irresponsible? So dumb?”

“Have a drink, just one. You’ll be fine.”

“Aren’t you tired of living such a boring life?”

“I love you, you know. Come on, Marie! You only live once.”

Marie had come, and I ignored her completely. Instead, I smoked and drank and smoked and drank. I passed out, and when I woke up, I had 20 missed calls from Marie and twice as many from my parents.

My heart dropped into my stomach, and I tried my hardest not to throw up. I immediately knew something was wrong. I knew something terrible had happened to my sweet sister.

\*\*\*

In the aftermath, I tried to connect with Dad in the only way he seemed to notice me—helping around the house.

Our ladder was old and terrifying, but he insisted on using it, so I held it steady as he cleaned the gutters. I stood in his shadow, feeling sick.

I imagined him falling and cracking his head open at my feet, his brain spilling out, his eyes weeping blood.

I was relieved when he finally descended, but the image of his mangled body never left me.

That night, I dreamt of Marie again. She stood in the corner of my room, looking at me. Her tangled hair was full of bugs and earth, and her lips had rotted away, revealing black gums and rotten teeth. I asked what she wanted and begged her to go away.

She smiled and stared at me, and then her eyes rolled back, revealing empty sockets wriggling with maggots.

Sometimes, I smelled blood in the air, and that’s when I knew Marie was nearby. I know Mom sensed her, too.

On the rare occasions we encountered each other, she would look at me, terrified. I imagined Marie clinging to my back, caressing and tracing my face with blood-stained fingertips.

I lost Dad during the height of summer. I found him sitting in the kitchen, staring at a corner, his eyes were unfocused and full of tears.

“She’s here,” he told me. “Asha, your sister is here. I can see her. We shouldn’t have left her. We shouldn’t have left her. We need to find her.”

Then he got up and left, the door banging shut behind him. Days would pass, and he would return home with dirt in his pockets and eyes as red as blood. He would sit at the table and cry, talking to Marie. He apologized to her. She wanted us to find her, and she was upset that we had given up on her.

\*\*\*

The days grew longer, summer felt endless, and Marie’s anger grew with the season. A storm blew in, rain lashed the windows, and the wind shook the house. After it was over, we went outside to check for damage. The house gazed back at us with hundreds of pairs of eyes.

Marie glared at us accusingly. “Have You Seen Me?” her missing posters read.

Yes, sweet sister. I believe we have.

Come back to us.

The ground was soft and sprinkled with teeth. I picked them up while Dad collected the posters. His mouth twitched, and his eyes were cold. I knew he was gone.

As I write this, his body lies crumpled under my window. I heard the crack as his neck broke on impact, and I know I’ll never forget the sound.

Mom has barricaded herself in her room. Occasionally, I hear her laughing, followed by wailing.

Nothing matters anymore. Marie is here, and she’s waiting for me.

The window is open, and I hear her. She’s singing and laughing, her voice warped by time, dirt, and larvae. From the woods, she emerges, beautiful and dark. She gazes up at me and smiles.

The moon is exceptionally bright tonight, and the sky is full of stars. I run outside and try to touch her face, but she pulls away and runs back into the woods. I chase her, and around me, the trees vibrate, and the air shimmers.

I’m going to find her. It has all led to this. I know what to do and where to go. I will sift through the dirt, unearth her bones, and shroud myself in her hair. Together, we will wait for the sun to rise and say goodbye to this world.

We were born together and will leave this life forever. There’s no one left to haunt and nothing left to mourn; all that’s left is the parting of the veil.

Marie, I’m so happy you’re back.

Finally, you’re home.