I don't know why they hate her.
It sounds silly, I know, but I can't help but fear for Sarah's life. She is only five years old, yet I feel that her very life may be in danger.
It has happened again. Sarah is back in the hospital with another head injury. I didn't do anything to her, and neither has our brother, Todd. We both love her too much: she may drive us crazy sometimes, but we would never intentionally do anything to harm her! This time I was the one who found her crumpled little form in the hallway.
I screamed upon finding Sarah; an ambulance was called and all attention was focused on my little sister, who, at the moment, looked more dead than alive. It was the worst thing that could have ever happened to us.
I whispered a quick, desperate prayer as I watched the paramedics tend to Sarah, peeking into her eyes, and starting an IV in one pale, flaccid little arm. I was so scared; I didn't know whether Sarah was dead or alive.
Soon, Sarah was taken out the front door and to the waiting belly of the ambulance. Sarah was quickly loaded up in the back and was then taken to the nearest hospital. This was the second time in as many weeks this had happened and it was starting to make me a nervous wreck.
While Mom and Dad followed the ambulance to the hospital, I stayed behind. So did Todd. I sat on my bed and stared closely at my three dolls that my whacko great aunt Eunice had gotten for me.
The dolls looked innocent enough: kind blue (or brown) eyes with not a hint of malice or jealousy in them. Soft, dimpled cheeks, elbows, hands, and knees. Looking all the world like sweet, innocent children's playthings instead of instruments of evil or deceit. Yet looking at Tabitha, Sarah Jo, and Timmy gave me a sense of dread and forboding.
First of all, before the trio had entered my life, I never had to worry about Sarah, my little sister, getting hurt, or the death of my kittycat, Willow.
But after they came ... Sarah had purposely been injured twice and Willow's neck had been broken, which had killed her. I know my brother or parents (or even Sarah) couldn't have harmed my kitten: they weren't that cruel. I knew that my brother (or even msyelf) didn't attack Sarah.
I found myself wishing I could throw Timmy, Tabitha, and Sarah Jo into the garbage. I suddenly didn't want to have anything to do with them. I thought them as ugly and disgusting; I wanted nothing more than to get rid of them all, forever.
That was what I decided I was going to do. Maybe Great Aunt Eunice might hate me forever, but as of this moment, I didn't care. My little sister's life was at stake. Maybe getting rid of Timmy, Sarah Jo, and Tabitha would put a stop to these weird happenings that had suddenly taken hold of our household. I had to do something, and fast.
~To be continued.~
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