The sun is too hot for May, and my arm is starting to burn. That’s what I’m thinking of when I’ve missed my afternoon bus. That and my sister, Julia. My name is Elijah William Scott. And I am the reason my sister is dead. There’s a shortcut you can take off of Sawmill Road to get to our house. I don’t take it anymore. I don’t need to look at the drawings, the flowers, the “We Miss You” signs. It’s all bullshit. It doesn’t mean anything. She won’t know.
“You should at least see what they have done to remember her, Elijah.” That’s what my mother said. My father doesn’t say anything. He won’t even look at me. Because he knows. He knows it’s my fault. My mother knows too. I think she just doesn’t want to lose two children. She tries to forget. But I know she can’t. And I know she won’t. I won’t either.
When Julia was four and I was ten, we played a game that I made up. Well, I didn’t make it up really, but Julia didn’t need to know that. She would have to stay on the furniture because the floor was made of fire or lava or whatever. But because I was Aquaman, I could run really fast on top of it. And I could run fast too. Jumping and stretching herself out between the couch and the plastic play kitchen, Julia, would make her way, but she would always find herself stuck. “Help! Eliyah! You gotta help!” I’d run and pick her up on my back to carry her to the big recliner chair. Throwing her on as she’d laugh and beg to go again. Again. Again.
“Eliyah! Eliyah! Wait up!” Running with her book bag flapping against her back and her orange Care Bear keychain jingling. It’s Friend Bear, she’d always tell me. I am 13 years old. Too old to have a seven year old following me around. Besides, Heather from my math class asked me to walk to the baseball field with her. I know what happens at the baseball field and I’m pretty much the only kid in the eighth grade who hasn’t kissed a girl. I don’t know what you know about being an eighth grade boy, but this majorly sucks.
She argued with me. Insisting and pleading. I dismissed her, “Julia. Grow up and leave me alone. Just take the shortcut. It’s five minutes.” I walked away with Heather and didn’t look back. I heard her sniffling and her keychain jingling as she shuffled away. So I went off to haphazardly makeout with a girl who later that week would forget my name while my sister- my baby sister, Julia Louise Scott. She was… Well, this monster had been waiting for the moment when she was alone. And I gave it to him. I gave it to him. For what? So I could tell Dante and Tim that Heather nearly cut me with her braces while giving me a hickey on the bleachers?
I’m not supposed to know everything that happened to her. Because I’m only thirteen. But if thirteen was old enough for it to be my fault, if thirteen was old enough to tell the police what she was wearing, yellow shirt with pink stripes, pink hoodie, jean shorts, purple sneakers, pink backpack, orange – Friend Bear Care Bear keychain. If thirteen is old enough to go to her funeral, thirteen is old enough to know what happened to my sister. But I won’t tell it all to you. I’ll just tell you that I needed to know and I do now. I know everything that happened to her.
My shoulder is turning a bright shade of red now. It’ll be peeling in a few days. By now I’ve walked much farther than I needed to. Feeling in my pocket, I pull out that orange CareBear keychain that I carry with me now. Friend Bear, Julia’s voice corrects in my head. I’m scared that one day I won’t hear her voice in my head. I don’t even change for P.E. anymore because I want to make sure I have it in my shorts with the deep pockets. It’s stupid. Because she doesn’t know. Because she’s dead. Because of me. Because if I had just done my job and been her brother and protected her she would be here instead of this dumb little keychain. Friend Bear. Whatever.
But Julia is dead. And I should be sitting in a cell next to the man who killed her. I should be sitting there doing nothing but feeling sorry. I will never stop feeling sorry. I know it. That’s pretty much all I do. Stopped playing baseball, doing homework, talking… I don’t sleep much anymore either. And it’s not that I’m scared or anything. I can’t sleep because one thought keeps me awake: I know she called my name to come save her.
Chloё M. Dehon
Image – Orange friend bear keyring from google images.
literally stories 
This is a brave story and without question heart-rending. The matter-of-fact prose and the reference to so many aspects of childhood, Aquaman, math classes, sneaky kissing, and the motif of the Care Bear keychain make this all the more impactful and moving.
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Listen: check out Paul Kimm’s story debuting on Fiction on the Web mag this morning. It is as brief as Chloe’s and as excellent. Yay! Paul! bill
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Hi Bill – thank you for the plug! Hugely appreciated!
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Julia
Seldom has a guilty conscience been so better described. Elijah is another victim of the monster. And that thought that keeps him awake is a monster on its own.
Although obviously not his fault, the mind doesn’t care. In fact the people who really are to blame sleep just dandy. The assholes. So much is conveyed here in so few words. Brilliant.
Leila
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A life blighted forever by a momentary decision. It’s a terrible thing and so well described in this piece. It’s a hard read because it faces reality square on, regret doesn’t help but we all have them. A powerful piece of writing. Thank you – Diane
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A hard read but one that is well crafted and powerful.
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Hi Chloe,
That last line was brave and some punch to the gut.
I have toyed with that idea myself a few times but never came up with anything.
I think it’s heartbreaking that the parents of a murdered child KNOW that the last thing their kid did was cry for them to protect them. This is the case with the last line and the brother’s thoughts.
Brilliant!
Hugh
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A monster destroyed two lives. Tragedy and guilt skillfully portrayed.
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A very brief but very arresting story. I could feel for the MC as he levies scorn on himself for ignoring the voice inside his skull. This is a paean to every child whoever felt he had let his sibling down when it really mattered. And we all have. Very masterfully done, Chloe. bill
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I was not sure at first if the brother was younger or older than the sister, given the start of paragraph 3, but then it becomes clear. Indeed, the last line was key, as David said the monster destroyed two lives.
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Oh, now I see, the age difference is clear. Harrowing story.
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This chills me to the bone. Before I read it, I couldn’t imagine living with that kind of regret and guilt. Now Chloe has made it possible with her perfect selection of words. The voice is convincing, and I hear the sound of that keychain. I had a shortcut to high school that included a tunnel under railroad tracks where (sometimes) drunken men loitered. We girls learned never to take that if alone, no matter how late for the school bell.
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I knew a woman whose passenger died when she got in a traffic accident. Years driving in snow and fog always scared me. Even though my moments of regret have been relatively minor (stupid things said, plumbing catastrophes), there is always that chance.
We were warned about a service station when I was in grade school. Never spelled out, but … .
The heartbreak in the story is so vivid as it is, saying more would have weakened the effect by overload. Just the right tone.
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