I had arrived at the blue-gray hollowed out wooden structure I’d call my house. The wind whistling in my frigid ears, and the breeze whipping my hair thoroughly. I entered the code on the squishy pads of the keyboard. The garage slowly creaks before it opens. I slowly twisted the shiny, silver knob that entered my quiet-three floored-living space. I walked through the dining room being sure to not wake the sleeping bears upstairs. I then creaked up the stairs-two at a time. When I had finally reached the top of the blackened stairwell. I turned sharply left and entered my dark, winter like room. I flipped the cold light switch up and the light flickered on.

I had heard small sniffles coming from the bathroom downstairs but hadn’t thought anything of it. Then I heard them getting closer up the stairs and realized someone had been down in the dark. It was my sister crying as she slowly slouched herself up the stairs, her mascara dripping down her swollen cheeks. “What am I doing wrong?” she thought to herself. I watched her force herself past my wooden door. I noticed something was wrong. I crept towards her bedroom and walked carefully through the doorway. “Hey Kaylee, Is everything okay?” She comes into my room and sits there to admire me.

Her hair is solid dark brown, short with layers of thin, shiny, locks of hair. She looks at me, her eyes as blue as diamonds, twinkling in the light. She wears thick black eyeliner and wings them into a sharp point. I can see it smear as she wipes her damp eyes. She’s only about 5’2 and weighs about 100 pounds. “She’s small but mighty” they say. I know she’s strong but seeing the blackened tears roll down her face as she struggles to talk makes me realize she may need me more than I thought. 

I ask her one more time if everything is okay, her eyes watering up again. The tears start falling and I try my best to wipe the warm droplets off her smooth porcelain skin. She looks into my dark eyes and stutters to say “No, I’m not okay.” “What is going on?” I ask as I’m trying to comfort her. I can feel her shake as I hold her in my arms. “How are you so perfect?” She asks me as she’s still whimpering against my swollen body. I never thought of myself that way, I actually thought I was the opposite. She explained it to me “Dad yelled at me while you were at work.” She says. “He told me he wished I was more like you, you’re responsible, smart, and independant.” She continued. I cut her off “Kaylee what are you talking about, that doesn’t sound like me at all.” I’m guessing she didn’t like that comment because the tears started rolling again and she ran out of my room once more. 

After the incident occured I texted my dad trying to get both sides of the story. “ She took that the wrong way.” He said. I still didn’t understand how that could have been remotely possible but I responded politely with a simple “okay.” I was so broken, I felt as if I’ve had my first heartbreak. Out of all the twelve years we’ve been together not once had we had a fight as gruesome as this. All because our father had picked favorites. I walk patiently out of my bedroom being sure not to make a sound. Our cat jumps out from behind  the corner and loudly purrs against my frigid ankles. I ignored the tiny fluffs clawing at my legs and crawled towards her wooden door frame. I knocked slightly, being sure not to startle her and she responded with a fierce yell from inside. “What!” It frightened me, I’ve never gotten that kind of treatment from her.  My instant reaction was to yell back at her but I knew that would cause more sadness so I put my hand on the warm handle and twisted it slowly, barely using any force. I slipped my stiff body into the inched crack of the door and sat on the foam mattress next to her. “Kaylee” I said, being sure to not raise my voice, “I’m so sorry.” “For what?” She asked. “Not being there for you.” I responded back. “I should’ve known things weren’t okay, I’ve noticed drastic changes in your mood towards me.” I told her, ending the conversation. I slowly get closer feeling her warm breath on my arms as I tightly wrap my arms around her for a hug. “I love you.” I said before leaving the room. 

This taught me to get both sides of the story to understand the full problem. I learned how to keep in my anger and help my little sister get through her depression by being the best sister I can.