You Are Mine, Little Sister

      RALI

I have always wanted a big brother.

My friends in school had one, and I liked how protective big brothers were.

This was why today was the happiest day of my life. Because for the first time, I was going to have a big brother!

"They're here!" I squealed with joy when I heard daddy's car drive in.

Mummy's laughter trailed behind me as I ran out of the house, going to wait in the front porch.

I could feel the butterflies of excitement fluttering in my stomach. They were finally here! I was going to meet my new friend. My new brother!

Yesterday, I'd asked mummy if I could consider him my brother since he was adopted, and she told me yes.

I giggled, impatiently waiting for daddy to stop the car and come out with him.

The tapping sound from the side of the front door distracted me for some seconds as I turned to stare at the bird in its nest. Our uninvited tenant.

I smiled. Her name was Pixie—name given by me. She'd built a nest close to one of our windows, automatically making it her home. Mummy had wanted to shoo her away, but I begged her not to.

She was really nice. Although, she did make some disturbing sounds sometimes—like now—but hopefully, my new brother would get used to it and get to like her as much as I do.

I turned back to the car when I heard the car doors opening. Daddy came out first from the driver's seat. The passenger door opened. I held my breath, my cheeks flushing. Then, he stepped out, and the air seized from my lungs.

He was finally here!

Excitement crushed me instantly, but it faltered before I could get my legs to move.

The new boy....he seemed different.

Last night, I'd overheard mummy telling daddy he was twelve years old. But the boy before me didn't appear the way a child should.

Yes, he was young, just like me. But...he had a drawing on his arm. A tattoo!

I flinched, my brows furrowing.

Some time ago, mummy had told me it was wrong for kids to have tattoos. She'd said I could only have one when I was eighteen and decided that it was what I really wanted.

But the new boy was just twelve. How did he have one already?

There was something else about him that sent a cold feeling down my stomach, killing the butterflies in an instant. I couldn't really explain it, but he didn't look as lively as other kids. He looked very cold, quiet. Unfriendly.

I shook my head, quietly scolding myself for judging him when I haven't even welcomed him. Mummy had said it was wrong to judge people when you didn't know them.

So, putting my smile back on, I run to him, feeling excited again.

"Hi! I've been waiting for you!" My smile was at the brightest.

Unfortunately, he only stared coldly at me, not acting like the other kids in any way.

"I'm Zerali, but they call me Rali," I pressed, extending my hand for a handshake.

But his reaction was just the same—barren and dreary.

He slowly lowered his eyes to my extended hand but didn't take it.

My smiles finally vanished, an ache piercing my chest. What was wrong? Didn't he like me? But mummy said I was a very likeable person. A lot of people liked me when they met me for the first time.

Daddy stepped in, clearing his throat. "Uh... He just needs to rest, Rali. You two can catch up later."

I dropped my hand, my chest swelling with a painful emotion. Maybe I should run to my room and cry. I felt rejected.

Mummy had already come out of the house and stood beside me.

"Hello, cutie. How're we doing?" She bent forward to the boy, ruffling his hair with her fingers.

But he was as still cold and emotionless. What was wrong with him?

Mummy glanced at daddy before looking back at the boy, chuckling. "So, what's the name huh?"

"He wouldn't tell anyone," Daddy answered, probably saving mummy the stress of repeatedly asking him.

I frowned, now glaring at the boy. How could someone be so grumpy? I didn't like him!

"Oh," mummy forcefully chuckled, touching her ear. "Well, I guess we can fix that, can't we? Come on, now. I prepared lunch already."

Putting her hand around my shoulders, she turned away with me, leading me toward the house.

"Hi, Rali." A strange voice suddenly said.

Mummy paused, same time I did. Surprise shadowed my face as I whipped around to face him.

It was my new brother; He finally said something.

"H—Hi." I smiled.

But even if he'd acknowledged me, the look in his eyes remained cold, dark and unwelcoming.

Later in the day, I overheard mummy and daddy talking in the kitchen.

"Mr. Andrews said he was brought in like this less than a week ago. He barely speaks to anyone, prefers being alone and won't even tell them his name," Daddy said.

"A boy his age having tattoos? What the hell happened to him?" Mummy asked in a whispered tone, slicing some veggies on the island.

"Well, they don't know what happened. They just found him on the streets, beating up another child. They discovered he was homeless and took him in. They think he'll be fine if he stays with a loving family. Thank God we volunteered."

I felt bad for my new brother and tried getting closer to him, but he was always so cold towards me.

When I offered him some candy, he told me he didn't like them and rejected them.

He wouldn't play with me, watch a movie, or read stories, not even when my bestfriend, Jasper, came visiting. He was always in his room, playing puzzle games—the only kind of game he loved.

Three days after his arrival, mummy gave him a name. But he didn't seem to like it and always ignored it whenever we called him by it.

Then, I began to notice something strange. He was always staring at me.

When we were eating at the table, his eyes were mostly on me. When I was playing in the living room and think he's in his room, I'd suddenly spot him watching me from a corner.

It became a little unsettling as he never said a word and wouldn't join me, either.

But one night, I woke up to see that he'd eaten some of my candies.

I didn't get mad that he took them without my permission. I was rather surprised that he ate them after he said he didn't like them.

Then one day—a week after his arrival—he did one of the most unbelievable things.

I was playing with my sketch book in the living room when I heard a bird squawking.

Jumping to my feet, I ran out and found the most terrifying sight. My brother had Pixie with him, his hand around her neck, strangling her.

My legs froze, my face paled and my eyes rounded like they had seen a ghost.

I wanted to scream but couldn't. Words died in my throat.

He strangled her so hard, her neck almost detached from the rest of her body.

When he finally turned to look at me, I found my voice. But my tongue felt as though, it had doubled in size.

"What did you... What have you..."

I couldn't speak properly. He threw dead Pixie to the ground, a frown on his mean face.

"She wouldn't stop whining," he uttered the words like he'd just gotten rid of a mere toy.

That was when my throat loosened and I screamed—so hard, I fell on my butts.

.....

Mummy and daddy were as shocked as I was, and it was even more frightening that the boy didn't seem to understand what was wrong.

I cried for a long time, both from the loss of Pixie and the fear of living with a 'monster'. Of course, he was a monster. Only monsters could do what he did.

This was not the kind of brother I'd dreamt of having.

That day, mummy and daddy had an argument about it.

"We should send him away. That boy is clearly not stable." Daddy insisted.

"No! He just needs more care and attention. We should set up meetings with a therapist instead."

"Honey, he killed a little bird with his bare hands! It's something I could never do myself. And this boy is just twelve! He's insane!"

For the first time, I wished mummy had listened to daddy and sent the monster away. But at the end of the heated argument, she won, managing to convince daddy to give my brother some more time.

But I refused to sleep at home and spent the night with Jasper. Jasper's mum and my mummy were close friends. And since Jasper and I were best friends, his mother didn't have an issue with having me for the night.

Jasper comforted me, promising me he was never going to let the monster hurt me.

But the next day, I was home and my brother gave me a strange look as he watched me get into the house. It made me really nervous, I kept a lot of distance between us.

Things got a little more uncomfortable when he started seeming angry whenever Jasper was around. He wouldn't play with us, yet he always looked at Jasper in a way that unsettled me, like he didn't like the fact that he was with me.

One night, something strange happened.

I was deep asleep when I felt a light caress on one side of my face. At first, I turned, thinking it was mummy. But then I hear a light whisper, "Mine."

My eyes fluttered open and further stretched when they fell on the face of my brother, the monster. A small scream slipped past my throat as I sat up.

It was in the middle of the night, and here he was, sitting on the edge of my bed, leaning into my face and watching me like an item.

My skin crawled with fear. For some reason, I didn't feel good about this. I didn't feel good at all.

"Wh—What're you doing here?" There was a quake in my voice as I asked.

There was a look in his eyes that got me even more anxious. For someone as young as him, he possessed so much darkness in his eyes. So much frost.

I didn't think he was going to respond because he hardly did when I asked questions, but much to my awe, he said, "I wanted to spend some time with you."

I should feel happy. My big brother wanted to spend some time with me for the first time. But something about the way he said it made me feel uneasy. Plus, it was very late. Why would he sneak into my room like that?

Also, I still hadn't gotten over the bird situation.

"I—I don't want to. It's late," my lips trembled slightly as I responded.

I was still sitting up, my hands grabbing the sheets beside me. I just wanted him to go.

He stared at me for a while before leaning into the bed.

"Why?" I didn't think it was possible, but his voice turned colder. "Why can't I be with you?"

"Just go!" My voice rose a notch.

Having him there with me, alone in my dark room flooded me with memories of Pixie being strangled to death by him. He could easily do the same to me. Right?

If he didn't leave any sooner, I might have to call for mummy and daddy.

But thankfully, it didn't get to that point as he pulled away and stood up. He glared at me, making me see that he was angry, and for a moment, I feared he was going to hurt me.

But fortunately, he just turned and left.

Four days later, the worst happened.

Jasper and I were playing in the backyard, laughing and running heartily. I got dirt on my face, and as Jasper tried to clean it off for me, my brother appeared.

"Get your hands away from her," he ordered.

He was always looking angry whenever he saw Jasper and I playing, but today, he looked angrier. Vengeful. I'd never seen anything like it.

"Hey, what's going on? Is there a problem?" Jasper asked, genuinely confused as he dropped his hand from my face.

His face grew harder. "You don't get to touch her. Not anymore."

My brows knitted in a frown as I watched him, perplexed. What was wrong with him?

Jasper scoffed. "What're you on about? Why can't I touch her? She's my friend. Besides," he returned his hand to my face, wiping off the dirt. "I was just cleaning her up."

What happened next came swiftly.

My brother picked a wood that had been on the ground and attacked Jasper with it. A scream left my throat as I watched Jasper being hit on the head, his legs, and other parts of his body.

I collapsed to the ground, screaming and crawling back on my butts. Fear like never before fully gripped me.

Jasper went limp on the ground, blood coming from a side of his head.

My brother still had the wood in his hand as he looked at me, and I felt my lungs stop pumping air immediately.

I whimpered and moved away, wanting to go as far away from him as possible. But being on the ground made it impossible, and soon, he was crouching in front of me.

His eyes still looked dark and wrathful, but they held a hint of softness as he lifted his hand to my face. I closed my eyes and screamed again, thinking he was going to hit me, but instead, he brushed some loose strands of hair away, tucking them behind my ear.

"Little sister," he muttered, his finger caressing my cheek.

I shivered, tears rolling down my face.

Then, he whispered the very word I'd heard that night: "Mine."