A few years later, funding cuts from the county forced the closure of where my sister called home. This forced my sister home, in the care of my parents. She got her room back, since I went to college where I majored in psychology. My hope is that one day there would be some treatment that would reach Carla. I spent so many weekends getting to know my sister, eventually she thought of me as hers. Sadly, to this day I don’t think she actually knows we’re siblings. I do see some sadness in her eyes for the brother that no one ever speaks of. She never raised his name, in truth neither did I.

She was there for my wedding; it broke my heart when she refused to be my Maid of Honor. She told me, my “sister should have that honor.” I couldn’t bring myself to pursue it further. Lyle and I were married with her as one of my bridesmaids and I had no “Maid of Honor.” She thought it sweet that our dad would walk me down the aisle.

Eventually, in my research, I came across what had happened to my sister. Her name was not referenced, but enough of what I had heard about the ordeal the women had been put through was unmistakable. So many lives shattered. How many more were there like Carla, or worse even.

It broke my heart going through page after page of stories that were not published as part of the research. Only contacting the researchers directly granted me a look into the world of such depravity. Personal stories, recordings, even the crayon drawings brought me to tears. Thankfully, I have Lyle (and Mr. Nibbles when Lyle’s away on business) to comfort me.

I have learned that there is much evil in the world, but along with it, so many people helping victims of such abuse. They work tirelessly and thanklessly with the strength of will to endure. It gives me hope that my Big Sister will be well again. I hope when she does get well, she finds her little sister as strong and enduring as herself.