Tears began rolling down my cheeks like little crystal balls. I couldn’t stop them. They were a mix of anger and sorrow. Was this some kind of sick and twisted joke? How could she say such a thing, and say it with such calm and total lack of emotion?
“So why are you still talking to me then, huh?” I cried, getting angrier, getting upset. “Why haven’t you killed me already if you’re so cold, heartless, and callous just like him?”
My sister took a deep, hard breath. After an excruciatingly strung-out long moment, she finally glanced away and sighed.
“Cuz ah think, in ma heart sis, ah dinnae want tae be like him anymare, ken? Ah think, deep doon inside, ah always wanted tae be like ye. Ah always wanted tae be brave and strong just like ye. Ah wanted tae be good and liked, just like ye were when we were baeth at school. Dae ye remember?”
“But you are brave and strong!” I protested. “You are, sister. You are. So much, much more than me. So much more.”
My sister shook her head lightly.
“No, you’re the brave one, sis. You’re the strong one. You’re the one who willnae change for him. You’re the one who fights what he wants us tae become. You’re the one who doesnae want tae follow him or listen tae his words. Who wants tae escape fae this life? Who dreams of doing something better? Becoming someone one better. Do ye no see, sis? You are the strong and brave one here. Everything you’ve said tae defy him, maybe no oot loud, but av heard your thoughts. Av seen your true feelings in your eyes and in your face and in your whole entire body, every time your aroond him.”
“Aw av ever done is been his sheep. His wee fuckin’ lamb. Ah follow his every word. Everything he’s ever asked of me av done or become, tae one extent or another. Ah just wanted him tae like me at the heart of it, that’s aw. Even tae love me. Ah just wanted someone tae like me or love me for who ah am, ye know. And no huvin tae dae aw these stupid tests and games to prove masel aw the time, ken?”
“But I love you, sister,” I blurted out through my tears, interrupting her. “I love you more than anything or anyone else in this world.”
“Ah just wanted tae make him proud,” my sister continued, not really listening to me anymore. “But whit he does, whit he makes us dae, whit he’s aw aboot, it’s none of that stuff. And al never get the things ah truly yearn fae him, fae a father, ever. Ah realise that now. Ah think av always known it, secretly, deep doon. But ah anly ever truly realised it when he made me bury you in that grave oot there in they woods. And now… now ah think he’s realised that tae. Why else did he take ye fae they woods and put you doon here? He knew that ah would have went straight back tae they woods and dug you up. And if ad foond ye alive, then he’d never see or hear fae either of us again. We’d run like the wind and disappear intae the horizon like two migrating birds.”
“But, you, sis…” she went on. “You’ve always known what he is. Always, but still ye defy him. Even now. That’s real strength, sister. That’s true bravery and character. Knowing what he’s capable of. Aw those mad horrible hings he’s done, yet still ye defy him. And ah think that terrifies the life oot of him more than anything else in this world. Knowing that whitever he says tae you, whitever he does, he can never change ye. He can never change ye tae his way of thinking like he’s done tae me.”
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. My tears had blinded me and my internal sobs had rendered me speechless.
My sister picked up her knife and handed it over. As soon as the handle touched my fingers, I immediately jerked my hands away and placed them securely behind my back. Not a chance on god’s green earth would I ever take that knife from her grasp. Not a chance.
“No,” I sobbed. “No! No way will I do such a thing. I will not lay one finger on you. I will never lay a finger on you even if he comes down here and tortures me to death this very instant, I would still never lay a finger of harm on you. I love you, sis. I love you.”
In the flicker of the candle light, I watched as my sister just grinned again and gently shook her head.
“Ah thought ye might say something silly like that and prove ma point. So, we’ll baeth rot and starve doon here then, aye? And what good will that dae either of us, eh sis?”
I shook my head. I knew I wouldn’t let that happen either. If only one of us was getting out of here alive, then by any power and strength remaining inside me, it would be my sister. No doubt about it.
I glanced at the knife. I knew then what I needed to do. I went to make a swift grab for it, but my sister had already read my mind long before the actions of my body took over and did my mind’s bidding.
She swiftly pulled the knife away. She turned the blade towards her, lifted her arms up as far back as they would go. She looked me dead in the eye before smiling warmly. Before I could even gasp or put together another thought, my sister plunged the knife deep and hard, right into the gut of her belly.
She let out a loud gasp and a hideous, hideous winded yelp.
Before I could react, before I could even do or say anything, she shocked and tortured me further by ripping the knife right back out of her belly and, in the blink of an eye, raising it up to her neck and slashing her own throat from left to right.
The blood poured out of her. Both wounds ran like a river of red. I really believed I was dreaming or hallucinating again, in that moment. Surely, this wasn’t real. It was only a dream. It was only a bloody damn dream.
My sister fell back onto the cold hard floor, face up and staring blankly into the flickering candle-light shadows of dark and light as the life drained rapidly out of her. Just like when I’d watched the life drain out of Chris only a few days earlier.
She coughed and spluttered. She started gasping and wheezing for breath. The paralysing horror of the moment finally lifted its heavy hands from upon my shoulders and my body unfroze. I jumped to her side. I lifted her head and cradled her in my arms.
“Why…?” I sobbed. “Why did you do that? Why?”
She tried to speak while spitting and coughing up more blood.
“If ye want tae get oot of here sis… tae be truly free fae him…” she tried to utter in between gasps and wheezes of blood and air. “…then in his eyes… you huv tae be me… ye huv tae be me for at least a little while, sis, in order tae be free…”
I continued to shake my head. I sobbed even harder.
“No, no, no…” I cried over and over. I couldn’t believe that my sister was dying, right in front of my very eyes. The love of my life. My only true family and friend.
It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real, I kept telling myself. Any minute now she was going to dig me up from that grave out in the woods, wake me up from the nightmares and shadows and drag me back up into the world of the living, kicking and screaming. A world where we could live well and die free together, run wild together, just be together.
My sister held out her limp, bloodied hand. I took it instantly, sandwiching it between both of my own cold hands. I watched as her breathing became shallower. I watched and cried as the life force drained out of her beautiful, pale, angelic little face.
I watched as she died in my arms.
I watched my own death.
My brave, strong, beautiful sister gone from this world.
Taken, but not taken by her own hand. No, I’d never admit to something like that, not ever. Yes, she was taken from me. But taken from me by another’s guilty hand.
Another still living and walking and breathing in this world.
Chapter 21
When dad woke up early the next morning the very first thing he did was come all the way down to the cellar and call out from behind the locked iron door.
“Is it done?” he cried before banging furiously upon the door half a dozen times. “Is it done, ah said?”
In the darkness of the cellar, I sat beside my dead sister. She looked so pale. She felt so cold and hard lying in my arms. So unnatural in her dead shell. I still held her hand tightly too, like I had done so
throughout the entire night, only letting go once to change out of my clothes and carefully dressing into hers just like she’d asked me to. Just like she wanted me too, even though I still had her dried blood covered all over me.
“Dinnae make me open this fuckin’ door and come in there noo!” dad continued to rant and rave and bang even harder. “Answer me! Someone. For fuck’s sake. If it’s no done, then it’ll be a week before ah come back again. Then a month efter that. Ye can baeth fuckin’ starve in there for aw ah care!”
I took a deep breath and finally let go of my sister. I stood gently up and casually walked over towards the door. I knocked hard from my side and said to dad that it was done in the most unemotional and uncaring voice I could muster. A similar tone that resembled my sister’s.
My father opened the iron door. He wore a big, beaming grin all over his face. He strolled right on past me and straight into the room where my dead and bloodied sister laid—where I still laid.
He crouched down to touch her. He even took her pulse, like that was really necessary. He turned back towards me.
“Ye did good, girl. Ye did fuckin’ good all right!”
He stood up and walked back towards me.
“Now. Ah need ye tae dae one mare thing, and then… then ye really will be your faither’s girl.”
Dad slapped me on the shoulder and motioned me out of the dark cellar. For a second, I was about to turn around and ask him about my sister’s body. Were we really just going to leave her down there, like she was nothing, nothing but a dead rodent? I almost asked too. But then I remembered who I was supposed to be in that moment so I didn’t say a word. I just bit my tongue and walked up those lonely, steep, narrow steps towards the ground floor of the house without looking back.
***
I was in the car again and dad was driving. Driving his car and playing his tunes and singing along like he always did whilst driving. Acting like he didn’t have a care in the world. Which he sadly did not.
We were heading down towards Glasgow again. Heading out for another adventure. Another of his games that he wanted to play. And without my sister dragging me back. He felt convinced that I would now follow through, without hesitation, any challenge that he laid down in front of me.
Since it was just the two of us, he wanted me to sit up front with him. I did with no questions asked. I sat in silence. With my head always turned and glancing out of the window at the passing mountains, towns, valleys, and lochs. I tried my best to zone out of anything he was doing or saying. Even when he tried to get a bit of rapport going between us by telling me one of his own sick and twisted confessions.
“Ye ken, ah had a brother once tae when ah was your age, lass.”
This was the first time I’d ever heard him speak about anyone from his family before who wasn’t his own father.
“And ma faither made me dae exactly what ah just made ye dae, doon there in that cellar. We werenae twins like you and that…” he hesitated. Like he couldn’t even say her name, my name, anymore. “… like ye and that other fuckin’ lass. He was ma older brother by a year. And ah fuckin’ killed the cunt when the time came. Nay hesitation. Just boom! Knife straight tae the belly. Only the strongest survive in this world, ma girl. Only the strong.”
He sounded so smug and proud while making that statement, like it was the only thing left to say that would cement our bond and connection, sealing it together once and for all.
“You’re strong, ma girl. Strong like me. And when it comes. When the shit truly hits the fan very soon. When that fuckin’ sky opens up and swallows aw the shite and scum of this world—chews them aw up and spits them oot—well, you’ll thank me for this one day, lass. You’ll thank me for every wee thing av ever taught ye. Ah promise ye that, ma girl. Ah promise ye that much.”
He tried to give me a wee half hug but nearly steered the car off the road in the process. I zoned him out as best I could after that. I just wanted him to stop talking and start singing again. Anything but to have to sit and listen to him talk about his end-of-the-world garbage.
I grabbed the handle of my sister’s knife tucked snuggly away inside the deep pockets of her jacket. I squeezed that handle so hard and so tight for such a long time. But that’s all I did for the time being. I wasn’t as brave and as strong as my sister to take that next final step just yet and put that knife somewhere, someplace where the sun didn’t shine.
When I released my hold on the knife again, I felt the strangest feeling in the pit of my tummy. I felt another presence inside the car and it startled the hell out of me.
I half turned to the seat behind only to see my sister sitting in the back and staring right at me. She looked so lifelike and real. Like she hadn’t died at all. She gave me a warm, reassuring smile. She looked so pretty and radiant and so at peace with the world. I’d never seen her like that before. I smiled back. She motioned for me to put my seat down and my head right back, which I did.
“Aye, better get some rest, ma girl. You’ve got a long night ahead of ye yet,” dad said when he saw me pushing my seat down as far as it would go into the back of the car.
My sister took a hold of my hair and began to massage her fingers all around my scalp. It felt so good. So relaxing and soothing. It was like all my worries and stress just melted away in that moment. I knew then that as long as I could see my sister, feel her, or speak to her whenever I wanted. Just keep her alive inside. Then everything would be all right. When I finally closed my eyes and gave myself into her touch, I quickly fell into a deep and blissful sleep.
***
It was late, around midnight I think, when we finally drove into Glasgow city centre. Dad shook me awake and said we were there. As I pushed my seat back up into its proper position, I made a swift glance into the back seat, but my sister was nowhere to be seen.
My hair felt strange though, tight and firm. When I touched it with my hands, I discovered that she’d braided it into a ponytail while I’d slept. I’d never had my hair in a pony tail before. Especially a braided one. I had a long look in the reflection of the car window. I really liked it. And if my sister wanted me to wear my hair like that, then I’d keep it.
Dad parked outside a big McDonald’s and lead me inside. He said I could have whatever I liked from the menu. I didn’t feel like eating anything though. I wasn’t hungry in the slightest, but I had to order something. Just to go along with the act. Just to show him that everything was still the same.
Dad ordered and paid for the meals. We sat at a window seat and ate them together in silence. I noticed a lot of sad-looking people in that place. No one talked. They just sat and ate with their heads bowed down and faces buried into their phones.
I glanced out of the window instead and watched the rain. It was in between light and heavy, but strangely jagged and slashing down in a diagonal wave which made it look as if it were pouring down from the high, city centre rooftops rather than the grey heavens above.
I liked the rain. It felt strangely hypnotic and reminded me of the rare, quieter and peaceful times in the company of my sister, both of us sitting comfortably by ourselves on the living room couch of our remote highland home, reading our books while the shower of rain outside pitter pattered off the windows.
When we finished our meals, we climbed back into the car and drove around some of the quieter back streets of the city for a while. I knew what dad was looking for now. And I knew what he wanted me to do in order to prove myself to him, one last time.
When he pulled up outside a dark alleyway, where a drunken, old homeless man—maybe in his fifties—was struggling to pull up his trousers after just defecating into a pot hole, I knew dad had found his final missing piece in his perfect, little picturesque, father-and-daughter jigsaw.
He turned off the engine.
“Mon you. Get oot.”
He climbed out of the car and I slowly followed after him. The homeless man was still trying to pull up his trousers but he just couldn’t seem to p
ull them up properly. It was like his entire upper body was working in slow motion as he tried desperately to reach down and at least grab his belt.
No matter how hard he tried, though, he just couldn’t seem to get a good enough hold of them to pull them up. Dad approached the homeless man from behind and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.
“Right you, ye dirty wee cunt.”
Dad dragged the homeless man into the alleyway. He dragged him over bins and bags filled with old rubbish that people couldn’t be bothered to throw in the bins, before throwing him hard against the back-brick wall. The homeless man slid down the wall and onto his backside. He looked so wasted. He didn’t seem to have a clue in holy hell what was happening. He looked long gone from this world. A picture of the walking dead. Surprisingly he started to laugh. But when dad pulled out his big, sharp hunting knife, he began to cry instead.
I edged a little nearer towards the pair. Dad leaned in closer towards the man, as he sat and cried. I knew what dad intended for me to do here without even being asked. I knew in my gut what he’d wanted from me. And if I didn’t act fast and did what he asked, then I’d surely be found out. I’d no doubt end up like my sister. Or that woman he tried to make us kill. Or that camper in the woods. Or like Chris and Mum. Or this sorry and sad looking homeless man who was about to meet his maker.
Without even thinking about it, I pulled out my sister’s hunting knife from my jacket pocket.
“Whit a fuckin’ sad, pathetic piece of shite ye are,” dad said to the homeless man. “Fuckin’ scumbag junkie fuckheed, if ah ever saw yin.”
I stood in silence directly beside dad.
“How the fuck are ye even still alive, ye fuckin’ useless cunt ye? Ah mean, whit fuckin’ use are ye tae any cunt in this world, eh? Whit fuckin’ use are ye son? Ye fuckin’ sack of shite.”
“Am sorry,” the man continued to sob.
My Sister And I: A dark, violent, gripping and twisted tale of horrifying terror in the Scottish Highlands. Page 18
