The Four Sisters - Chapter 4

Now, let’s talk about my second sister. At first, I was unsure of which sister to talk about next. As it happens, both of my younger sisters began showing symptoms of their darkness manifesting at around the same time. My own darkness manifested before theirs and others began to notice it, I think, after my oldest sisters, but I struggle to put into words how exactly it happened. My own manifestation went entirely unnoticed, it seems, by many members of my family for many years. My manifestation was one that was more internal, as I have said before. So, do not mistake that these events are written in any sort of chronological order. They are not. I am only putting them in an order that, I believe, is the easier for outsider to understand.

As I think I have mentioned before, my second sister was not like myself. She did not give up on my father. Even when she herself was at her lowest, fighting her own darkness, she did not stop searching. I admire her for that. It is something that I don’t think I could ever do. Something that I had the chance to do, and chose not to. I think that maybe I am a cold person by nature. I think this when I am having a bad day. If I am having a good day, then I think that perhaps it is not that I am cold, but that in the past, I was merely being influenced by my inner darkness. Maybe I was not given the proper chance to care. Truth be told, after my eldest sister disappeared, she too slipped from my mind. Slipped from my thoughts and prayers. Though, I am not religious, I often wonder if I would have been, if my circumstances had been different. If I could have been. For a long time, during those moments that my darkness had not taken over my mind completely, I tried desperately to believe in God. But, all of my efforts were in vain, it seemed.

Regardless of my own hardships, my second sister had her own. I am unsure of exactly that nature of her manifestation before it was completed. Perhaps I did not pay enough attention to what she was going through and therefore am unable to understand entirely what it was that was plaguing her. I remember we were the closest of us four sisters, before the disappearance of my father. We would argue and fight, but there was a warmth to our interactions. It gave off the feeling of always having someone who would never leave you, never betray you. We were different, she and I, but we loved and cared for each other like the very closest of friends.

She was one that, much like my father, could befriend anyone. There weren’t many people that could hate her for very long. She always won them over in the end. We looked strikingly similar, often we were mistaken for twins. Her personality was one that drew people in. Caused them to want to surround her with their presence. Her friendships were often fast, though they did not always last. She had many best friends, but few old friends.

I was the very opposite, collecting old friends like dusty tomes on an old, partially forgotten book shelf. Filing them away for later years. Some, I would not look to for years at a time. Others, I would pull from the shelf and peruse their contents for a while, maybe a week, maybe a year, then silently place them gently back.

Of course, like many things in my life, our closeness did not last forever. As I have said before, I was a very cold person for many years. My sister was like the sun, drawing living creatures out of their dark abodes to bask in her radiance. Whereas I was like a winter’s night, forcing people and living creatures to run home for warmth. When I was younger, I longed for the same ease at which she found making friends and interacting with others. Jealousy set in. Then, like the rigid winter’s night that was my personality, I slowly froze away that close relationship and familiarity that we had cultivated in our childhoods. My seemingly uncaring perspective dimmed her light, at least in regards to me. She stopped looking for me, stopped trying to grow closer to me.

My second sister’s darkness was manifesting at the same time she was searching for my father. The two were always much closer than she was with my mother. She was closer to him than me and my other sisters were. I remember her telling me once that she would wake early in the morning in the hopes that she would be able to sit with him as he drank his coffee. When he finally returned, it was her that he spoke to about his time in the Pit. It was her that he confided in. My other sisters were closer to my mother, at least in their youth. Myself? I wasn’t particularly close to either of my parents. Sure, I loved them, but that did not mean I grew up telling them about everything in my life. No, it wasn’t until later, after I acknowledged the darkness inside of me, that I was able to overcome my distant and cold disposition and finally grow closer to my mother.

Anyways, my sister never gave up searching for my father. She continued to look for him even when my other sisters, my mother and I did not. I don’t know if she was able to do so despite her darkness, or because of it. I say this, because I suspect that her darkness was similar to my oldest sisters and my fathers. I think, if she would have allowed herself, she too would have disappeared into the Pit. I think it called out to her. I say this because only those that hear it’s call are able to find it. They are the only ones that fall into the Pit. Truth be told, even if I had searched for my father, I doubt I would have found even the slightest clue as to where he was. I have seen the forest, but that is as far as the darkness directed me. I’ve never been any closer to the Pit. Maybe, I could have forced my way through those trees, maybe I would have been able to stumble my way to the Pit. I used to think this…but I was wrong. As I said before, only those called to the Pit can find it. Just like, only those that fall into it can truly know what lies in it’s depths. Even is those that return, which are very few, try to explain what it was that they found at the bottom, other’s would not be able to comprehend. They would think that they could, but they would be wrong.

My second sister found the Pit. She stood at it’s edge and peered into it’s dark and seemingly endless depths. Whether she did so fearlessly or not, I do not know. But, I doubt it. I doubt that she felt no fear in those moments that she stood at it’s edge and screamed into it’s unending darkness. Screamed out my father’s name. Curiously, she did not say that she ever called out for my eldest sister. This is one of the reasons that I question if her darkness had aided her in searching for my father. One of the reasons I wonder if it in fact guided her to search for him.

My second sister, unlike my father and oldest sister, did not fall into the Pit. I do not know if this was what the darkness inside of her wanted, or if she bested it in that moment, causing it to change it’s course in effecting her. I only know what happened after. I only know what caused her to give up on her search for my father, at least temporarily. And that is, when she came back on night after visiting the Pit, something followed her back.

A bit of the abyss crept into her shadow and resided there, waiting and watching. Slowly, day by day, it inched closer to her. Day by day, week by week, it reached out to her.

Once that shadow began to reach for her, my second sister showed something that was entirely foreign to me. At least, it was foreign to me for her. She showed fear.

I remember one night, as I lay in bed, waiting for sleep to claim me, hearing her crying. I heard her trying to stifle her sobs, but they still escaped, reaching me as I lay in bed trying to sleep.

This is hard for me to admit, hard for me to remember. I heard her crying in fear. I knew something was wrong, but I did nothing. I lied in bed, irritated at the noise that woke me up. I did not know, at that time, that I had in fact not been woken from my slumber. If I had known what my sisters sobs had actually done for me that night, if I had known…maybe I would have gone to her. Maybe I would have held her and comforted her, attempting to ease her fear and heartache. But then again…maybe not. Maybe my darkness would have continued to fuel my apathy and kept me there, under my warm blankets. Perhaps, I would still have wished for her silence.

I did not know as much as my sisters and my mother, at this point. I did not know that they knew about my darkness and how it was manifesting. I did not know that they yearned for me to be free of it and worried daily and nightly about me and what would become of me. They, especially during this time, were better people than I was. Still are. They feel things and know that what they feel is true. Pure. They do not have to worry that it is instead a manifestation of a darker part of themselves. They do not have to question if what they feel is real or it is a ruse created by that which dwells within.