Wait for Me, Sister

To pay for my college, my sister married a rough widower from the next town. She smiled, saying he had a trade and we’d never go hungry. But that night, I heard her crying through the wall.
For three years, she hid bruises under thick makeup, telling me to just study so her misery would end. One day, seeing fresh marks on her, I reached out and suddenly heard her thoughts: 83 more days. Once Wanda gets accepted, I’ll turn on the gas and take him to hell.
I froze, then forced a smile. I pulled out my top-of-the-district report card, tore it up, and said coldly, "This is useless. I'm getting a job at the factory."

1
The sound of ripping paper was deafening in the cramped kitchen.
The sheet that boasted a score in the 99th percentile, proof of my top ranking, was reduced to a confetti of failure, fluttering to the grimy floor.
Kate’s hands, busy washing vegetables, went still.
After a long moment, her gaze lifted from the scattered pieces of paper to my face. Her eyes, usually so full of quiet endurance, flashed from confusion to disbelief, and then to a tidal wave of fury.
"Wanda!" Her voice trembled. "Do you have any idea what you're doing? Have you lost your mind?"
What's wrong with Wanda? She always shows me her grades like they’re treasures!
Does she know what I've given up for her? After everything, she says this to me now?
I forced my chin up, affecting a smile that felt like cracking glass. "I haven't lost my mind. I've just realized that school is a dead end. I'm going to work."
She lunged, grabbing my wrist. Her fingers were shaking. "This is your future! I've worked myself to the bone to give you this chance, not for you to throw it all away for some factory job!"
"My future?" I laughed, a bitter, ugly sound. "My future is hiding in my room studying while I listen to that man beat you every day? Besides, jobs are scarce. By the time I graduate and make any real money, he might have already killed you."
"I'm done letting you plan my life," I spat. "I'm going to make my own way."
"You—"
Kate raised her hand, her palm whistling through the air toward my cheek.
I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the sting.
But it never came. Her hand stopped, hovering in the air, trembling violently before falling, limp and defeated, to her side.
She was only twenty-three, but strands of premature silver already threaded through the hair at her temples.
Did I want to marry this monster? Did I want to be his punching bag?
If it weren't for her, I could have had a better life. She...
Wanda, what right do you have to say these things to me?
Her silent, screaming despair ripped through me, a pain so sharp it felt like my own heart was tearing apart. But I held her gaze, my careless smile plastered on my face.
Her expression was a storm of emotions: pain, confusion, disappointment, and something else… resentment.
As we stood locked in a tense silence, a knock echoed from the front door.
"Kate, you home? Mail's here!"

2
It was Mrs. Gable from next door. Kate hastily wiped her tears, took a deep, shuddering breath to compose herself, and went to open the door.
She wasn't in the mood for small talk, simply taking the envelope with a mumbled "thanks" before shutting the door again.
Her eyes fell to the letter in her hand, and her entire body went rigid.
Written on the envelope in elegant, flowing script was a single name:
Kate.
The return address bore the name of the sender, printed in clear, stark letters: Clara Bellweather.
Kate's fingers gently traced the name, her eyes suddenly burning with a fierce, forgotten light.
I heard the envy and bitterness swirling in her thoughts.
Clara... She's probably on the biggest stage in the country by now...
I should have been there with her. If I hadn't chosen Wanda...
I was six, and Kate was eleven. Our father had gambled away everything we had and vanished. Our mother, broken, had swallowed a bottle of bleach on a rainy night.
Just as we were sinking into despair, Clara and her parents had arrived, Clara in a beautiful dress that seemed to glow in our dim, dusty house.
While I was sleeping, they took Kate into the other room.
"Come with us, Kate," they'd said. "You and Clara grew up together. We've always thought of you as our own daughter."
"And you have such a gift for dance. We'll make sure you can keep training, right alongside Clara."
Kate had hesitated for only a second. "What about my sister? What about Wanda?"
"Wanda's too young. We can't take on another. But we can arrange for her to go to a good group home. They'll feed her, clothe her..."
From that day on, Kate never danced again.
She collected cans, worked market stalls, washed dishes in greasy diners—propping up our fragile world on her slender shoulders.
And Clara? She had gone on to the best performing arts school in the country. Now, on the verge of graduation, she was rumored to have already been recruited by a prestigious dance company.
Kate still clutched the letter, her fingertips trembling. The envelope was thick, as if it held a photograph. I didn't need to see it to know what it was: a picture of Clara, radiant under the lights of a grand stage.
"Kate..." I began, my voice soft.
She jolted back to the present, stuffing the letter into her apron pocket as if it had burned her. She turned back to the sink.
"Go do your homework." Her voice was thick with unshed tears. She kept her back to me, saying nothing more.
I watched her, her silhouette so thin it looked like it could be torn apart by a stiff breeze, yet it carried the crushing weight of our entire existence.
Did she resent me? I didn't know...
But every time a letter from Clara arrived, an uncontrollable flicker of anger and grief would surface in Kate's eyes when she looked at me. She'd be cold for days.
And yet, she would still wake up before dawn to make me breakfast. She would still wait up late into the night until I came home.
I clenched my fists.
You're right, Kate... I thought.
You shouldn't have given up dancing for me. You shouldn't have endured his fists for me. And you damn well shouldn't be planning to die for me.
Your life is worth a thousand times more than my future.

3
The internet cafe was a haze of stale smoke and blinking screens. I sat at a terminal in the far corner, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, motionless.
"Wanda!"
A familiar, sharp voice, laced with a tremor I knew all too well, cut through the din.
I whipped my head around. Kate stood at the entrance, her worn-out sundress clinging to her frame. Her hair was a mess, and her forehead was slick with sweat.
She stared at me, her chest heaving, her eyes a blaze of frantic anger and a flicker of something else—fear.
She stormed over to my terminal and ripped the headphones from my ears.
"Mr. Davison called me!" she hissed. "He said you haven't been to class in a week! What the hell are you doing?!"
I looked down, making a deliberate show of tugging at the collar of my oversized school jacket. "Nothing. Just didn't feel like going." My voice was flat, layered with a practiced, defiant slouch.
"Didn't feel like going?" She sounded like she'd just heard a foreign language. "You once went to school with a 102-degree fever. And now you 'don't feel like going'? I asked around on every block until someone told me you've been wasting your days in here!"
"Do you have any idea how hard I've worked to get you this far? Who do you think you're answering to?"
Her grip was like a vice, bruising my wrist.
No... this can't be happening... I traded my entire life for Wanda's future. How can she do this?
Her thoughts were a silent, desperate scream, a wire tightening around my own heart.
I hardened myself, wrenching my arm from her grasp. I stood up, looking down on her. "That's right, I don't want to go. What's the point? Vince doesn't have half your brains, but you're still the one depending on him to survive."
The words landed like a physical blow. She staggered back, the color draining from her face.
She didn't say another word. She just grabbed me, practically dragging me out of the cafe and all the way home.
The moment we pushed open the door, the stench of cheap whiskey hit us like a wall.
Vince was sprawled on the sofa. He saw us and immediately started yelling. "Where the hell have you been? I'm starving! Where's my damn dinner?!"
Kate flinched. "I... I'll make it right now."
"Make my ass!" Vince shot to his feet, grabbing an empty bottle from the coffee table and hurling it straight at her. "I'll teach you to keep me waiting!"
Without a second thought, I threw myself in front of Kate.
The bottle grazed my temple and shattered against the wall behind us. Glass sprayed everywhere.
"Vince," I said, lifting my head to meet his furious, bloodshot eyes. "Calm down. I was just having a drink with Ace yesterday. He might have mentioned that little loan you took from him..."
At the name "Ace," a muscle in Vince's jaw twitched.
I pressed on, my voice deliberately casual. "Ace said not to worry about the money. Said it was on the house, on account of me. But..." I paused, my gaze flicking to my sister, who was trembling behind me. "He's got this thing... he can't stand guys who get rough with their women at home. Says the noise is bad for his nerves."
Vince's expression shifted. He looked me up and down, as if seeing me for the first time.
After a moment, he spat on the floor and forced a grotesque smile. "Well, damn, Wanda. Look at you, all grown up. A hell of a lot more useful than your sister! Should've said so earlier. We're all family here..."
Muttering under his breath, he grabbed his jacket and slammed the door behind him.
The room was left in a dead, ringing silence.
Slowly, Kate lifted her head. She looked at me as if I were a complete stranger. Her eyes were wide with shock, fear, and something deeper—a kind of soul-crushing despair.
"How do you know someone like Ace? Wanda, tell me, what have you really been doing this past week?!"
I met her gaze, my heart hammering against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage.
"Nothing much," I lied, forcing a smirk. "Just figured hanging with his crew is more interesting than staring at textbooks. Ace says I'm sharp. Says if I stick with him, I'll be set for life..."
"Shut up!" Kate shrieked, cutting me off. She rushed forward, her hands clamping down on my shoulders, shaking me hard. "Do you know who Ace is? Drugs, violence... he's a monster! You'll destroy yourself! Snap out of it!"
"I am snapped out of it!" I shoved her away. "I'm wide awake! Awake enough to know that a diploma won't save us! At least if I'm working, I can take care of myself and not end up beaten to death alongside you by that animal!"
It was as if all the strength drained out of her at once. She froze, her face a mask of disbelief. Tears began to stream silently down her cheeks, but she made no sound.
She just stared at me, her eyes filled with a hollow emptiness, with resentment, and with absolute despair.
How did Wanda become this person?
This is the sister I gave up everything for? The one I threw my life away to protect?
No... she's just confused. She'll still take the exams. She has to. It'll be over soon. I just have to hold on a little longer. Just a little longer.
Kate, once you're dead, it'll all be over. It's better for you, and better for Wanda...
She turned away, shuffling silently toward the kitchen.
Listening to her thoughts, I felt an invisible, icy wall rise between us.

4
For the next month, Kate seemed to be waging a war within herself.
She remained cold and distant, but there were no more explosive confrontations. I could see the effort it took her to contain her pain and her bitterness.
After all, if it wasn't for me, she would be living a completely different life...
And every day, I heard her heart's silent weeping.
Maybe it would have been better if I'd died with Mom that night... I'm so tired...
Your life is over, Kate. Stop dreaming. It's all your fault for being weak, for raising that little parasite.
No... don't say that about Wanda. She's just lost. She'll come around...
On the day of the final practice exam, I sat with a blank test paper in front of me for two hours. When the bell rang, I was the first one to walk out.
The result was predictable. A perfect zero across the board. My homeroom teacher called Kate in.
In the cramped office, the teacher's voice was heavy with disappointment. Kate stood beside me, head bowed, her hands twisting the hem of her worn-out dress.
"Mrs. Miller," he said, his tone strained, "this was the last exam before the finals! She handed in a blank paper! Does she even want to go to college anymore?"
"It's not that she can't do the work! Her previous scores put her at the top of the district. She could get into any Ivy League school she wanted!"
All eyes were on me. I looked at my sister's hunched, humiliated posture, took a deep breath, and spoke, my voice sharp and cold.
"What's the point of a degree? You get it, you come out, and you still can't protect yourself. You just learn to take a beating and then put on a smile, just like her. A future like that? You can have it. I don't want it."
The air in the room froze.
Kate's head snapped up. The color drained from her face, leaving it a ghostly white. She stared at me, and I watched the last glimmer of light in her eyes shatter, leaving behind nothing but dead, grey ash.
She didn't cry. She didn't scream. She just looked at me as if I were some grotesque, alien creature she'd never seen before.
My heart gave a painful lurch. Does she hate me? Does she truly hate me now?
I hate you... Wanda, you've ruined my life, and now you're going to ruin my dignity in front of everyone?
No... what dignity do I have left? Am I even a person anymore?
Her thoughts were fragmented, broken.
She said nothing. She simply turned and stumbled out of the office, her back so slumped it looked as if her very soul had been ripped out.
It was dark when I got home. Kate was sitting in the living room, shrouded in shadows. She hadn't turned on the lights.
"Kate..." I started, my voice hoarse.
"Do whatever you want," she cut me off. Her voice was laced with an undeniable disgust and frustration. "From now on, just do whatever the hell you want. As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a sister anymore."
She got up, went into her room, and shut the door.
I'm just her sister. I've done enough. I took pity on her, but who's going to take pity on me?
I fought back the urge to run to her, to hold her, to apologize for everything. I wiped away the tears I hadn't realized were falling and went to my own room in silence.
The silence held until the next afternoon.
Vince came home, cursing and fuming. He'd clearly gambled away all his money again. His eyes, red and wild, scanned the room, finally landing on Kate. His fists clenched.
"Damn it all! Useless! Where's the money? Get me some goddamn money! What happened to my paycheck this month? Didn't I give it all to you?"
Kate stood there, numb, unresponsive.
It was a lie. He'd given her a pitiful amount for groceries, keeping the rest for himself.
"You useless bitch, feeding two deadbeats like you... I should just kill you and be done with it!"
Vince's face was purple with rage. He snatched his leather belt off a chair and brought it down hard across Kate's back.
He was a mountain of a man, over two hundred pounds, crushing my sister's small frame beneath him. Fists and slaps rained down on her.
Her screams echoed through the small house.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I walked over, pulled the envelope with the tuition money from my backpack, and held it out to him.
"Vince. I have some."
He froze, his arm mid-swing. He snatched the envelope, licked his thumb, and counted the bills. His scowl melted into a grin.
"See? Wanda's the smart one!" he crowed, peeling off a small stack and shoving it back into my hand. "Here, this is from your big brother. You stick with me, kid, I'll take care of you!"
He pocketed the rest of the cash and swaggered out the door.
Kate's face was swollen, blood trickling from her nose and mouth. But she acted as if nothing had happened. She quietly got to her feet and, without a single word or glance in my direction, went back to her room.
It was as if she was no longer a part of this world.
Had she given up on me completely?
Late that night, I tossed and turned, sleep eluding me.
Suddenly, a faint noise came from the next room. I held my breath, straining to listen, focusing my mind.
...Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow. While she's gone... it'll all be over.
...The gas valve... just have to turn it... It'll be quick... no more pain...
The thought, so clear and calm, was a bullet straight through my heart.
My mind went blank. The blood in my veins turned to ice.
No... It can't be happening... not like this.

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