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Author's note. While I tried not to make this gratuitous. It's still a very difficult subject. I placed the warning in perhaps an overabundance of caution. I don't know if I'm doing the story any justice, it is not my intent to make light of these issues. Thank you all who have read, commented and/or encouraged this story.

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I continued my sessions with Mrs. Huffman. My original therapist had unfortunately moved his practice. Dr. Finch was excellent at working with me through my transition. Though, I had broached the subject of my sister a few times in my sessions with Dr. Finch, I had continued to steer the conversation towards my transition. We had all faced the reality that my sister may never come home. We only hoped that she would. Mrs. Huffman was different. She knew my issues with my sister were bigger. Different. Separate. Mom and Dad recognized that too, eventually.

I worked up the courage to visit Carla after my first week at school, much of my first week was uneventful. I was not aware that one of our days was a ‘half day’. Though these were usually on a school calendar, a misprint caused much of the confusion. I had decided that with the afternoon free, I’d take the opportunity to visit my sister. I still didn’t have a car. I braved public transportation to reach the care facility she had been moved to from the hospital.

The care facility was staffed by a combination of volunteers and professionals who took on the challenge of working in the much maligned facility. They had meager budget to support them and it showed. The building, though largely intact, was in much need of some TLC. The bus stop was across the street from the facility. I cross over and am met on the other side by another woman who gives me an odd look of recognition.

“It’s true you’re alive! I was coming here to see you!” Barely able to contain her excitement. A gaunt young woman approaches me. She sees the fear in my eyes as I reach into my purse for my mace and take a step back from her as she approached. “Carla? What’s wrong?”

“I’m… I’m not Carla.” I say. She looks at me waiting for me to recant. Her eyes search my face trying to resolve how I could be anyone but Carla.

“Carla, its me Sandy.” Her eyes are begging for something. Was this one of ‘the other girls’ Carla was talking about during my ‘rescue’ from our home? “Carla please, don’t go into denial. It’s better that you work through what happened to us and not lock it away.”

“I’m Angela, Carla is my sister.”

“Oh my! You look so much like her… I thought that… I mean I had hoped… God, she had it the worst, you know? I… I thought that if she could be out and about as, as normal? Maybe there would be hope for the rest of us? Where is she? Is she okay?”

I shift my gaze to the facility. “She’s not well.” I can see the horrified look on her face. The realization that Carla had not managed to come out unscathed.

“Oh, I supposed after all that she went through, I mean… everything that happened… to her… She never let it get to her, you know?”

“What happened?”

“You don’t know?” Either the memory of what happened or the thought of having to tell the story weighs heavily on her.

“Please, I have to know. We can’t get anything out of her about what happened. And she needs to… She needs to get better. Please!” I’m beginning to tremble, “…you have to tell me what happened to her.”

“Take me to see her and I’ll tell you what I know.” She bargains. There's anguish on her face. I don’t know which is worse, not knowing what happened to my sister or not knowing whether or not she was okay. I’m afraid that the answers to each would hurt us both, but not knowing hurt more. I agree.

“I need your name to give at the desk.” I say barely able to contain the myriad of emotions running through me.

“Sandy, Sandy Mitchell.”

The nurse shows us to the multi-purpose room where the patients congregate during the daylight hours. We walk into the room. Carla is again staring out the window as we approach her. She turns and recognizes Sandy. “Sandy! It’s so great to see you! Who’s your friend here?” I shudder.

“She’s Angela, your sister?”

“I don’t have a sister. She look just like me though. I’m Carla, you’re very pretty, but sad… You know you’d be much prettier if you smiled.” I my throat closes up and tightens. I try to take a deep breath as Carla motions us to a table to sit down. “Sandy, I’m so glad to see you’re all right. I was worried about you! Did you all get out okay?”

“Yes, Carla we were able to get out.”

“What a relief. What about you? I can’t imagine what they did to you to make you look so sad. Angela was it? You know they say it helps to talk about it. You really should share what happened to you with the doctors here. I’m sure they can help you.”

“Carla, she wasn’t at the facility. She’s your sister.”

“There you go again Sandy. I don’t have a sister. If she wasn’t there, then why does she look so sad?” I’m not going to cry, I’m not going to cry.

“Carla, I’m telling you she is…” I place my hand a top Sandy’s.

“Please don’t… “ I plead with her to stop. Sandy stops and sees the tears forming in my eyes. She reaches into her purse and pulls a tissue to hand to me.

“Don’t cry, pretty girl. Everything will be alright. I promise.” my sister, through it all, is trying to comfort me. I feel my heart ache. Just hold it together. I begin to caress my wrist to calm myself.

“So, is it just you Sandy? I was hoping to see some of the others.”

“They all made it home, thanks to you.”

“I’m sorry ladies, I have to take Carla away from you for a bit. We need to get her ready for dinner.”

“Sorry, Sandy, please come by and visit anytime.” Carla turns to me. ”And you, please try to smile more. You’re too pretty to be anything but happy.” It’s so hard to contain the turmoil inside me.

They take Carla away and I turn to Sandy. “Please, tell me what happened.” I begged. I want more than anything to have something to reach my sister. Some bridge to her psyche. I can see the hesitancy in Sandy's eyes. Please grant me this mercy.

“They kept us in cages… Like animals. All except Carla. None of us, wanted to be her.” She looks up at me blinking as if hesitating to recall something. Her hand goes to cover her mouth as she let out a little yelp. “We were all forced… forced to watch what happened to her everyday. Alway in the center of the room. It…” Her hands begin to tremble as she paused to take a breath.

“It was… it was their way of showing… God, it was like she was her one minute. Then… It was what they expected from us.” I grab her hand. It’s clammy and cold. I squeeze it and bring my other hand on top. “They took some sort of sick pleasure out of it.”

“We all would have been happy to never be her or to never have what was done to her, happen to us.” she begins to choke back tears. “I think most of us would rather die than to take her place.”

“How did she save you?” She reaches into her purse and pull tissues. One of the volunteers sees the look of anguish on her face and approaches. Sandy is becoming more distraught.

“They’d parade her in front of all of us. They had broken her a long time ago. At least that’s what they thought.” She tries to bring the tissue to her face. Her hand is trembling so hard. I grab the tissue and dab away her tears as let mine fall to the table. Little puddles of tears coalesce on the melamine table top.

“As long as she kept ‘volunteering’, they never touched us. She knew that if she ever stopped. They would choose another one of us. We all knew what she did for us. None of us wanted to stand up for her. To convince them to stop. We just let it happen. They made her serve us. Bring us our ‘food’. She bathed us. Cared for us. It was her ‘reward’ for her ‘cooperation’.”

“I was there for so long… I didn’t know how much time had passed. Six months?… From the time I was taken. But it seemed like they’ve been doing this to her for much longer. It was twisted. They took turns, having her pleasure them in front of our cells. Sometimes rough, sometimes gentle. They told her what to do. When to moan, pant, smile… What ever they wanted… She did it. On cue. Every time. As if she knew what would happen if she didn’t. It couldn’t be worse for her, perhaps she wanted to spare us as much pain as she could?”

My mind was trying to put things together in horror. All my experience can only be summed up in one kiss with Robbie, even in that, there was some revulsion in the way that he kissed me without my ascent. I knew nothing else. I couldn’t comprehend the depths of how Carla was violated. Every day? Sandy didn’t have to go into details. The horror of it all was written her face. How she shuddered at each memory.

“God, I didn’t know.” She couldn't bring herself to say anymore. I… I didn’t want her to. I didn’t need her to. Seven years? How can anyone endure for seven years? I could only sit there and my stomach twisted and turned. She jumps to her feet and rushes to a trash can in the corner of the room. One of the volunteers rushes over to her aid. I could hear her wretch her insides into the can. I’m frozen in my chair, unable to absorb what I had been told.

Another volunteer walks over to me. “Miss? Are you alright?” I don’t even turn to look at her.

“No, I don’t think I ever will be again… I don’t think she will ever be again.” The image of my sister is conjured in my head. The volunteer helping Sandy spirits her to the ladies room. I’m staring into space.

Some time passes, I don't know how much... Eventually I hear a familiar voice in the distance...

“Angie? Angie are you alright? We’ve been looking all over for you. Honey? Why didn't you tell us you were visiting Carla? Angie? Are you listening to me? Baby girl? It’s mommy. Angela sweetie? Aaron! Something wrong with Angela.”