Regina Is Gone Narrative

Your sister is dead.

Regina is gone.

She was thrown from the car.

It was an accident.

Those were the words that haunted my mind as I walked the city skywalk. They rattled the inside of my skull, throwing themselves into bone time and time again, bouncing around as they did every day. Each time one surfaced, it sent a new jolt of grievous pain through me, causing my hands to shake slightly and my mind to grasp pictures I did not want to see.

Dead. Accident. Gone.

A harsh wind blew threw my coat, heading straight for my scrawny limbs. I shivered, clutching my parka tighter as more snow blew down from the bleak Chicago sky. I shifted my backpack across my shoulder, daring to take a peek at the dark clouds that loomed above.

Ever since we lost her, a part of me became bitter, angry even. Usually I ignored it, but today it came anyway. I was angry with her for leaving us, for saying those lasts words to me, not even saying goodbye before she left for above. My fists clenched, squeezing the photo with furious strength. Tears were coming in torrents now.

Dead.

I screamed in frustration, hurling the photo at the wall of a building. I stood shaking, aching, and freezing, not daring to move. The truth came in waves around me. I was tired of the grieving, tired of the loneliness, tired of being picked on. I knew what I would have to say to make it stop, make it all stop, but I knew it would be hard.

I forgive you.

Forgive. The word echoed inside me. Forgive. It brought with it not the terrors of the past, but the great times, times of happiness and joy and love. It brought the smell of her, the sound of her voice, her kindness. I sobbed with relief, smiling, really smiling. Forgive.

But..

There were still two problems to face. And I knew what I had to do.

I can do this, Regina.

Minutes went by as I walked toward the house where I knew they would be. I saw it ahead, garage door open, music blaring inside. The laughs and shouts of the teenagers partying inside did not send me bolting for once. Instead, they reassured

I forced my chin up, trying to gain the confidence I needed. I looked him square in the eye. “I just wanted you to know that you can no longer hurt me.”

Get ready.

He chuckled, amused. “Oh really?” he chided, shaking is red hair. “I’ll see about that.”

Here it goes.

I braced myself for the oncoming fist, and when it was headed for me, I reacted in a flash, moving my hand up so that it gripped it in mid air. I caught his fist, causing his arm to shake violently as he tried to push on. He stared in awe at me. “I think I have proven my point,” said a voice inside of my, one that I hadn’t known for a long time. One that was cool, and even.

Yes.

“You little runt!” he said, shoving me. I pushed him back with extreme strength, shoving him into a row of boxes behind. He lay in a heap surrounded by them, gasping. I looked up, and to my surprise every eye in the place was fixed on me. I smiled, and strode out of the garage, feeling lighter than I had ever been in the past year.

I knew you could do it.

Her voice rang through my head as I strode down the sidewalk to my house. I was going to confront my parents tonight, tell them how I felt, how I was being treated, how I hated their fighting. And they would listen.

Great