Admin Note: This story was originally published on Sunday December 4, 2016 at 2:50:05 pm. I just had to post this up. I know we are down, especially me. This story is one of tough love, and I would like to think Leila could teach a few of us something about it...~ a very sad Sephrena.
 
 
“GET OUT OF HERE!”, Carla, my older sister, yells standing in her bedroom with just a towel wrapped around her chest and another turbaned over around her head. She had just stepped out of the shower and mom had called us down for breakfast. I stood there debating about running out or just standing there giving her mom’s ‘invitation’. “DID YOU HEAR ME, YOU PERVERT?” She’s 14, and I’m 10 at the time and well, mom kept telling her to ‘mind her modesty’. “Xander!” mom calls out from the first floor of our ‘lovely’ two story home. “I just told you to call your sister down for breakfast! Not to gawk at her in the process!”

The memory was still vivid and I don't recall what I had just said to my therapist about it.

My name is Alexander though… for some reason instead of Alex, they call me ‘Xander’. The name stuck. Thankfully, for not long, I go by Angie now. “Angie, I thought we were going to discuss you and how this all started?” Mrs. Huffman, my therapist, rarely abides distractions and loves tangents even less. “So…” tapping her pencil on the top of her notepad, “What does this have to do with all of this?”

“Well, I guess it was the last time I saw my sister…” I say sadly. “The last thing she ever said to me was call me a ‘pervert’.” I say sadly. I feel my chest begin to tighten.

“I… I’m sorry Angie, I thought… Please continue.” Her normally, stern face softened ever so much for just the briefest of moments.

“Well, I ran down for breakfast and ate it as quickly as I could, before running off to school. She hadn’t come down yet.”

“What happened to her was not your fault.” She must be psychic.

“I never mentioned what happened to her.”

“Sorry Angie, everyone knows that part of the story. It was national news after all. I shouldn’t have interrupted, we’re talking about you at the moment.”

“I know, but she was supposed to walk me to school in the mornings.” I look up because I hear the scribbling by Mrs. Huffman. She never writes. She just taps the pencil on the notepad. I thought it was something of a metronome, keeping things on beat and on measure.

“She went to school directly instead. That’s when they must have grabbed her. If she went with me she would have taken her normal route.”

“So how does that make you feel?” She’s now chewing the pencil, hanging on my words. I’m fidgeting with the hem of my skirt, pulling in closer to my knees. Her eyes dart down to my fingers and my hem for a moment, then back up at me.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head looking down at the hem which never seems to be long enough. “Maybe if I didn’t go up… or enter her room? I might not have been embarrassed and went to school on my own?”

“Angie, listen to me. What happened to you sister was the act of two depraved men. They are the only ones responsible for what happened to her. Not you.”

Tears are rolling down my cheeks. “I can’t help it. You know, she would have been 21 tomorrow.”

“I didn’t realize that. Angie, do you think your life would have been different had this not happened?”

“It would have been nice to have an older sister to share things with. To have someone to talk to about all this.”

“And how does that make you feel?” I’m really starting to hate that question.

“It hurts mainly. I mean, every time I do something, the thought enters my head that she never got a chance to do this.”

“Is it possible you are living the life you thought she would have if she survived? I mean instead of Alexander’s?” The question stuns me.

I shake my head. “I think I’m living my life.” I say in a somber tone. “It probably would have been easier with her there.”

“How did your parents take the news of your transition?” I’m not sure whether the change in subject was for her benefit or for mine.

“I guess the best word was ‘skeptical’.” I say with a smirk that eeked out before I could contain it. Again, more scribbling. Three sessions and she had not written a single word. Now, she’s flipped two pages?

“Go on.” She says matter-of-factly. Her wrist turn gently until she realizes; there isn’t a watch there. Her eyes move towards the clock. She closes her eyes and before I could get a word out. “Actually, I think that’s all the time we have for this session. Have you kept a journal like I asked?”

“Yes, but it’s been pretty hard to write in it lately.” I frown.

“Please, try. It’s important not to have this all bottled up.” She stands, as do I. I straighten my skirt and pull down at the bottom hem of my blazer. She walks towards the door as I follow. She does something else that surprises me. She rubs my shoulder as more tears continue to trace a new path down my cheeks. “Do you have my number in your cellphone?” She asks with a hint of concern in her voice.

I reach in to my purse to pull out my phone. I shake my head that I didn’t. She grabs a card from her receptionist desk and places it in my free hand. “I want you to call me if you need someone to talk to. Please promise me that you will do that, okay?”

I look up and sheepishly nod, “Yes, thank you.” I pull out a tissue from my purse and dab at my eyes. I’ve given up on wearing mascara and eyeliner before therapy sessions. I walk out to the waiting area.
Mom looks annoyed while reading her tablet. She looks up at me, I’m a mess again. I can see it on her face. She slides the tablet into her purse haphazardly, before rushing over to me. I let out a muffled sob as she pulls me into a hug. “Baby, it’s okay.” She rubs my back. All can do is cry as Mrs. Huffman closes the door behind her. It takes me a few moments to compose myself. Mom takes a step back from me runs her fingers through my chestnut hair. “Are you sure this is what you want?” she asks in earnest. I look up at her. “I mean you were pretty sullen as a boy, but it seems much worse now that you’re a young woman. Are you sure this is really making you happy?” I can see the heartbreak on her face. I’ve learned to recognize it. It’s on her face every time someone mentions Carla. She doesn’t wait for an answer. She turns, reaches behind to grab my hand and we walk out of the office. I’m thankful she’s leading, I could barely see straight, let alone think straight.

We head out of the medical office building and to the car. “Honey, do you feel like having some lunch? You didn’t have any breakfast this morning.” I’m shaking my head. I don’t think that she’s asking. We probably already have reservations for lunch.

As expected, we set down for lunch, after the hostess shows us to our table. “Angie, please say something. All you’ve done since we left the doctor’s office is cry.”

“It’s her birthday tomorrow.” I say flatly. The questioning look on my mother’s face gives me pause.
She looks down at her menu. “I hear the chicken marsala is wonderful here. What were you going to have sweetheart?” Chicken marsala was Carla’s favorite dish. It was mom’s way of saying she hadn’t forgotten about Carla. It just still hurt too much to talk about her.

“I was probably going to have a chicken salad or something.” Not even looking at the menu.

“I’m concerned about you. You’re rail thin and skipping meals is not healthy for you. Please, eat something.” She was right. At five feet five inches, I was barely over 110 pounds. I open my menu, scan the entrees and sigh.

“You remind me of myself at your age.” She says with a smile.

I close my eyes and smile.

“There’s that smile that I’ve been missing. Now, can I have my daughter back?” Chill runs through me and my smile disappears.

She looks at me wondering what she said to make my smile vanish this time. “Angie, you keep taking things wrong. Carla wasn’t this hypersensitive.”

“Sorry mom, I can’t help it.”

“Well you certainly can’t go back to school as Angie and be that hypersensitive. It will only make things worse. Are you sure you want to do this? You could start fresh in college. It’s only two years away. You don’t have to… It’s just I don’t want to see you hurt. High School can be just so… cruel you know.”

“The principal assured me that everything would be fine. Dad had a conversation with him and they made sure there were the proper arrangements.” I’m wondering where the waiter is. “The therapist is part of the whole thing.”

“That’s another thing. I don’t like having you walk out of her office in tears. You should have seen yourself. I’m not supposed to ask but, what were you talking about in there that got you so upset?”

“Carla, I was sharing the day that she was taken.”

“That’s none of her concern.” Anger crept into her voice. “Why would she ask about that? You are supposed to be discussing why you’re a girl instead of my son?”

“I brought it up.”

“You did? Why on earth would you bring that up? The therapy is for this whole ‘transgender thing’ of yours.”

“The whole transgender thing? Is that way you think all this is? As a ‘THING’?”

“That’s not what I meant young lady and you should mind your voice!” She says in an angered whisper. “Young lady, I think an apology is appropriate at this moment.”

“I’m sorry mother.” I sigh, “I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

“I’m sorry too sweetheart. You have to understand that I feel like I’m losing another child. I’m trying my best to…”

“Ladies, would you care for a beverage?”

“Hot tea for me and ice tea with extra lemons for my daughter.” Mom's answer is a reflex.

“I’m sorry, I’d like a diet coke please?” Mom looks at me.

“One hot tea and one diet coke for the young miss. I'll be right back with those in a minute.”

“The ice tea was Carla’s normal drink order, not mine.” I say after the waiter leaves. Mom closes her eyes and shakes her head.

“You look so much like her too. Sometimes I forget."

We finish lunch and head back home.

A pair of police cars are parked in front of our house. Mom looks concerned as we pull into the driveway. She tells me to stay in the car with the engine running. I watch her disappear into the house and shriek.
It startles me. I grab my purse and fumble for my mace and run in after her. Mom’s there standing, hugging someone just slightly shorter than she is. A brunette whose back is towards me. Mom is crying and I don’t know why. I see my dad on the couch, he’s got his hands cupped to his mouth. There are tears in his eyes. The young woman releases her grip on my mom and turns around to see who just entered in the room.

The young woman looks like me. I’m shaking and fall to my knees on the carpet. “Carla?”

“Xander?!?!?"

============================
Author's note.

Okay, this is what I get for pantsing... I'm not sure whether this would be anything more than just this solo setup. It just feels like the beginning of an interesting story. I would normally bury it in my 'I'll come back to it never file' but it seems like such a waste. Nanowrimo, yielded 64,000 words of a story that would never see the light of publishing. So, I felt a bit guilty that I wrote so much without sharing.

2016-12-04 14:50:05 -0500

In one of the most improbable reunions, Carla Rhodes, who was kidnapped almost seven years ago is finally reunited with her family a day before her 21st birthday.
{Cut to pre-recorded footage}
It was almost 7 years ago, when Carla Rhodes, this beautiful young 14 year old girl was kidnapped from this quiet neighborhood while on her way to school that morning. She was the subject of a manhunt that spanned 4 states and drew national attention. The two suspects, Greg and Marvin Centers were apprehended just outside Salt Lake City, Utah, but there was no trace of Carla. They were later found dead in their jail cells after apparently hanging themselves with their shoelaces. No foul play is suspected in their deaths, leaving many to wonder what happened to this 14 year old angel.
{Cut back to the live shot}
At this time, we have no information on where Carla was held this past 7 years or how she was discovered. The police and the FBI are going to hold a press conference tomorrow morning. We have footage of Carla being reunited with her Father, Aaron Rhodes, early this morning. The mother and teenage son were not home at the time of Carla’s return.
Live from just outside the home the Rhodes family, I’m Laurel Street. For KALF news. Back to you in the studio, Barbara.

Earlier that afternoon…

“Xander?!?!?”

“Honey, this is your sister, Angela, Angie for short.” Dad tries to introduce me, their youngest daughter, to their prodigal daughter, Carla.

I couldn’t move. The strength in my legs left after I saw my sister turn from a hug from my mom to face me. I’m on the ground and my dad realizing my distress rushes over to my side.

Carla is frozen as well. “What?” she’s shaking now. “Why? How? I mean, My sister? Xander? Mom what the hell is going on?” She turns to my mom, our mom, with a questioning look.

“It’s true honey. She’s your sister now.” Mom begins to move towards Carla who now retreats. Mom’s face shutters a bit at Carla recoiling.

“She looks like me.” Carla’s disdain is now apparent. “Is this freak supposed to be ‘my replacement’?” She spits out angrily. “You didn’t have me around so you turned your only son into... what... a substitute for me?” The venom was directed at my parents, though I was the first to resume my tears. “What sick game is this? I didn’t expect to come home to two parent that would do that to their only son!” pointing at me. “This is not happening… This is not happening…” Carla repeats she makes her way to the couch. “I’ve been through hell for the last 7 years and my sick, twisted parents turn my brother into another daughter? There’s got to be a law against this, child endangerment or something.” She’s muttering to herself.

Dad is hugging me trying to console me as I’m crying at being spurned by my own sister.

“That’s enough Carla. Look at what you are doing to your sister.” Mom says sternly.

“What I’m doing to my ‘Sister’? Are you people insane? Look at what you’ve done to my BROTHER! This crying, little, 'nothing' is supposed to be your daughter? I that what I would have grown up to be- living here?”

“Enough Carla! Aaron, why don’t you take Angie to her room while we talk this over calmly.”

“She… hates… me, Mmmmy… sister… hates… me…”, I stammer as I resume crying. Dad picks me up and carries me upstairs to my room.

He sets me down on my bed and pulls a couple of tissues from the box on my vanity next to the door. He hands the tissues to me as I’m sobbing. “Carla hates me.” All those years, I had wished for the day my sister would return. All the nights, I spent praying that God would someday return my sister to me. I thought of how excited I would be to finally have my big sister back. We’d do all the things that I saw my friends do with their older sisters as they got older. I thought how we would share our deepest thoughts with each other. “She hates me…” My heart erupted in pain.

“It’s okay princess, she doesn’t really hate you.”

“Yes, she does Daddy.”

“She’s just angry and confused. She’ll come around and she’ll hate you for other reasons…” he says with a smile.

Just for a moment I let out a giggle in-between my sobbing. How does he do that? Daddy seems to always be the one to pull me out of my malaise. I love him for that. A few more minutes I've calmed down.

“Are you going to be okay pumpkin?”

I look up at him, “Yes daddy.” I say smiling with tears still streaming down.

He stands and kisses me on the crown of my head. “That’s my girl. I’ll be back up here to check on you later okay sweetheart?”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, princess?”

“I love you.”

“love you too baby girl.” He closes the door behind him as he leaves.

After sitting for a few minutes, not hearing anything from downstairs, I lethargically strip off my blazer, skirt and blouse and pull on my sweatpants and hoodie. I hang my clothes back into the closet and place my earrings and bracelet in the jewelry box on my vanity. I leave my locket on as I stare at my sister’s photo inside it next to my own.

I’m on my bed reading a magazine on my tablet when there’s a knock on the door.

Before I can answer the door opens and Carla peeks her head in. “Mind if I come in?” she says sheepishly.

“Fine, it was your room before anyway.” I’m sad and angry right now. Her words which had deadened a few minutes ago, reassert themselves into my mind.

Carla walks in and sits on the far corner of my bed. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“What do you want…” I sneer back at her, prepared for another verbal assault.

“I’m sorry, I… I just wasn’t expecting to find that I have a younger sister.”

The thoughts in my head of what she might have been through in the last seven years have begun to tamp down my anger.

I begin staring out the window at the moon. “I used to pray every night that you would come home safe so we could be a family again.” The tears in my eyes begin to well up again.

“I know, I wished for a long time for the same thing.”

“It’s been so hard not having you around. When you were gone… I… I had nobody… Mom and Dad were there, but they weren’t at the same time.”

“I know, it was rough for me too. You did grow up to be every bit as pretty as me though.” She says with a smile.

“Where were you? What happened?”

“It’s a painful story to tell. Can I take a raincheck? I’m not ready to tell it.”

“I understand. Someday perhaps?”

“Someday.”

“So, Angela is it?”

“Everyone calls me Angie.” I smile.

“Oh yeah? Who’s everyone?”

“My friends, almost all the family knows by now. I’ve had all summer to bring them up to speed.”

“So, you’re a Junior now?”

“In high school, yes. Sophomore year was tough though.”

“So, does my sister have a boyfriend?”

“No, mom won’t let me date… She probably won’t let me date until I’m in college now that I’m a ‘young lady’. It used to be I couldn’t date until I’m a junior. Her tune changed when she finally saw me as Angela for the first time.”

“Bet she must have gone ballistic.”

“What?”

“Sorry, she must have been out of her mind.”

“Oh! she freaked out actually. You should have seen her face when the first of a series of boys came over to ask me out on a date. I think it started last year.” I say with a giggle.

“What about dad. I can’t imagine that went over well with his 'pride and joy' suddenly becoming his little girl.”

“Pride and Joy? Are you kidding me? He didn’t warm up to me until I was Angela. I think he loved you more. You were Daddy’s little girl.”

“Sounds like you’ve inherited the title.”

“Nope… I’m his ‘baby girl’.” I beam with pride.

“So, what’s the story? How did you go from my skeevy little brother to my beautiful little sister?”

“I don’t know, I guess I was always your little sister. As far back as I can remember. I just hated being a boy.”

“Don’t tell me you were one of those that 'snuck into their sister's closet' to pilfer items of clothing.”

I sigh. “Most of your clothes went to the attic 5 years ago. Vanessa, Rhonda and Sherry were the ones that got me my first outfits until I got my job.”

“Did Mom and Dad buy girl clothes for you?”

“Not a chance. I got a work permit at 15 ½ by then I was already buying my own clothes and have been a retail princess for the last year and a half. I get a discount if you’re interested.” I say with a grin.

“And the store is okay with you really being a boy…”

“Well, the store managers know because they have to but, they’re great about it. I pull in the most sales.”
“My sister, the queen of retail, huh…”

She stands up and begins looking around my room. There are tons of photos of me and my friends.

“So, tell me about your friends.”

“What’s there to tell.”

“Well for one thing you are or were a boy. Nearly all of these pictures show you as a girl. How long have you been dressing as a girl?

“Since I was 12. Well, in secret that is. I was caught by mom and dad when I was 13. They got me into therapy, thinking it was a reaction to you going missing. It took months to convince them it had nothing to do with you. They actually had me on hormone blockers since I was 14. I just started taking estrogen a few months ago. I began seeing a second therapist about a month ago for a second opinion.”

“What about the kids at school. Didn’t they bully you?”

“That’s where Mom and Dad drew the line. I was not allowed to go to school as a girl. Which really sucked for me. I would run to Vanessa’s after school to go change there. But thankfully, that’s all over. I get to go to school as Angela now.”

“What? How?”

“Well one of the school board members has a transgendered son who goes to a local elementary. Dad knows her and asked her if she could help with my situation.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope! Come August 28th there will be no more ‘Alexander Rhodes’ and it will be officially Angela Lynn Rhodes.

“Lynn?”

“Mom’s idea. She said if she ‘was going to have a daughter instead of a son that she at least wanted a hand in naming her.’ ”

“Are those mom’s diamond earring?” Spying the earrings I had just placed into my jewelry box.

“No, they’re mine. She did get them for my sweet sixteen birthday party. She still has the set, her set, she was going to give to you. She didn’t want me to have them. As much as it hurt, I think she held on to them because she knew you would come back some day.”

“Is this the sweet sixteen?” She pulls a photo from my vanity mirror.

“Oh god!” I get flushed. Holding up my hand to shield myself from the photo. “I didn’t pick the dress. Mom did! I looked horrible in it.”

“It looks lovely, and you look lovely wearing it.”

“I wish I had you there to help pick out a better dress for me. Or at least run interference with Mom.” She giggles and sets the photo back on the vanity mirror.

“And who’s this?” I wince as she uses the photo to fan herself. “He’s cute.”

“Ugh. Robbie Barnes. I can’t believe I kissed that ‘frog’.”

“So, he didn’t turn into a prince?”

“No, but he bragged about kissing a 'princess' to his friends for the next month. Well, until they let him know it was me.”

She looks over and sees a set of pompoms on the chair. “Oh! tell me you’re not a cheerleader.”

“I’m NOT a cheerleader.”

“What a relief.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know it’s just I’m glad you’re not. Why do you have these anyway?” She asks holding up my pompoms and shaking them mockingly.

“They were a present.”

“A present?”

“From Cindy McAllister, she was the head cheerleader. I became an honorary cheerleader when I saved Nikki Price from drowning a few years back.”

“Wait! Cindy McAllister, as in my old best friend, Cindy McAllister?”

“That’s the one!”

“She made head cheerleader?”

“Oh! she’s pretty now. Nothing like the awkward teenager you remember. She’s married and goes to UC San Diego. She’s an Econ major, I think.”

Carla looks down at the pompoms give them a shake with a sad look on her face. She sets them down on the floor and sits on the chair where they sat. She pulls Mr. Nibbles, my teddy bear out of the chair and takes his place. She looks around the room focusing on nothing in particular. “God, I missed so much of your life. So much of my life.” She’s hugging Mr. Nibbles now. I get off my bed and walk towards her as she beings to sob. I pull her up from the chair and into the hug I’ve been waiting almost long 7 years to give.

“Carla?”

“Ya, sis?” she says sadly.

“Are you okay? I mean, with me as your sister? and not as your brother?”

“I think so Angie.”

“I love you, sis.”

“Love you too! Ang?”

“Yeah?”

“I can I have my room back?” She looks at me with a hopeful smile.

I smile back a her. “Not a chance, Sis! Not a chance!”

Thank you. Two years ago, a Joint Task Force consisting of the FBI, the US Department of Labor, US Department of Immigration, Customs, and Enforcement, as well as several other agencies initiated investigation after receiving information regarding several individuals, detained against their will in a small community just South of Tucson, Arizona. For the past several months, the Task Force had determined, that individuals had been transported to various other locations through out the US as part of a massive underground operation, spanning 7 states.

We will continue to utilize any and all resources available to the task force in pursuit of their captors. Make no mistake, we will bring these persons to justice. I would like to thank…

Much earlier that morning…

There’s a rustling in my room. A hand goes over my mouth that keeps me from screaming. “Carla, be quiet. It’s me.” A hushed stern voice from the darkness. “Come on! We need to get out of here. The guards are only going to be gone for a little while, now’s our chance.“ My eyes are wide now. My sister, Carla, has a something in her hand. The moonlight through the window shows the glint of the edge of a knife. I let out a yelp. “Shhh! Do you want the guards to hear us?”

I don’t know what’s going on. My heart is racing. My sister is in my room, with a knife, I guess ‘rescuing Carla’ from some imaginary ‘guards’? I’m panicking. I don’t know if she’s going to hurt me or herself.

“No time to get dressed! Come on!” She pulls me by the wrist, out of bed and towards the doorway. She peeks her head out to slightly. Her hand gripping my wrist tight. Fear settles in to me as she pulls me into the hallway. She stealthily looks left and right constantly, then pulls me down the hallway. She has the knife out in front of her at the ready. I’m shaking. She looks back at me. “Carla, you need to calm down.”

The lights in the hallway flick on. “Carla?” Daddy’s half a sleep. She turns and places herself between me and my Daddy. Carla has the knife in front of her. It takes a moment for Daddy to realize what's going on. He must see the scared look on my face. He starts moving towards us.

“You’re not taking her back; do you hear me!” Carla growls. This causes my dad to retreat a step. “Carla?” She asks. No answer. “Carla!” She shakes my wrist. I’m petrified and can’t speak. “Carla! What’s the matter with you!” she screams at me. I can’t stop shaking.

“Daddy, please help me.” I’m starting to cry.

She turns to me. “Carla, you’ll be with your mommy and daddy soon, we just need to get out of here.” She pushes me backwards in a retreat.

“Daddy?” He looks at me. There’s something I’ve never seen in his face. I can’t quite place it. Terror? Every step we take in retreat. He advances. He’s trying to save me.

“Carla, don’t you want to see your Mommy and Daddy again?” She asks me. I’m so afraid right now; for me and for my family. “Carla, you’re going to have to trust me, okay sweetie?”

Mom peeks her head out. Her eye go wide. “Aaron?” She puts her hand to her mouth.

“Honey, call 911.” He says to Mom. She retreat back into the room.

Carla and I are at the top of the stairs now, slowly retreating. She has her hand gripped tight around my wrist still and isn’t letting go.

“Carla? What are you doing? that’s mom and dad." I ask. She looks at me, angry at my confusion.

“Carla, what is wrong with you? That’s not your mom and dad! I trying to take you back to them. Don’t you see? You don't need to be scared anymore. I’m here.”

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Shhh! No time to talk. I tell you everything you need to know when your back safe with your mom and dad, okay?” I turn on the lights to the stairway.

“Down the stairs. Now!” She says in a hushed but firm voice.

I look past her. “Daddy?” I’m pleading with him to help.

He stands there and raises his hand. “Do as she says, princess. The police are on their way.” We head down the stairs to the livingroom. “There’s the door. I’ve got to get the other girls out.” I look at her puzzled. “Carla, are you listening to me?” The cops arrive. “Look! I told you the authorities are here. Run! I’ll get the rest of the girls.” I can’t move. She give me a shove towards the door. I can see the flashing lights shine through the window. I don’t want to leave her. “Carla! What’s the matter with you. You need to get out of here!”

I turn and summon as much courage as I can. “Carla, this needs to stop! Now! I’m Angela, your sister, remember?”

“Have you lost your mind? Carla, you need to go out to the cops now! Stupid girl! You’re 10 feet from rescue and you want to stay here? Go! Out the door. Now!”

With tears in my eyes, I run to the door and open it. A cop pulls me towards him. “she’s clean!”

“What's your name sweetheart?”

“Angela, Angela Rhodes.” My fear turns to concern.

“Angela, How many are in the house with you?"

"My mom, dad and my sister Carla. She’s got a knife.”

“Who’s got a knife, sweetie?”

“Carla, She… She thinks she’s someone else. I don’t know what’s going on. Please don’t hurt her!”

One of the cops draws his weapon and advances into the home. A few minutes later, Carla emerges with the cop. A blanket draped over her. They’re walking towards us. She’s smiling. “See, I told you if you trust me, you’ll be safe!” I look at her puzzled. “Carla, you’re going to go home to your mommy and daddy now.” She says to me as she places a kiss on my forehead and is taken to an awaiting ambulance.

Mom and Dad rush out to me. “Honey, are you alright? Did she hurt you?” Mom asks as she pulls me in to a hug.

“I don’t know what was going on. Kept calling me Carla. What happened to her?”

“I don’t know, baby girl. I don’t know. You’re safe now though.”

The officer looks at me. “Is she going to be okay? Perhaps she should get check out at the hospital as well.”

***

It’s been three long and agonizing days since the Carla had her ‘episode’. I still wake up screaming. We’re on our way to the hospital. She’s been cooperative for the time being. She is in the behavioral health wing of the new hospital in town. Mom and Dad have to fill out paperwork. I pace the halls and finally I walk into the room and see Carla is standing there staring out the window. It’s a large room with several patients. Plenty of tables and chairs. Patients in wheel chairs. They seem to be transfixed, medicated?

I remember a room like this. The scars on my wrists remind me of what might have been had they not intervened. The room is bright and cheery. All I can remember was that the rooms that I was in were all grey. Funny this room seem to be laid out pretty close to the one I was in before. Was it the same room?

Carla sees something in the glass and turns towards me with a smile. She hurries towards me arms out stretched. “Carla! I thought I’d never see you again! Finally, we can convince these crazy doctors that you do exist. You were so scared, remember? God, I had to drag you to safety. I don't understand how you managed to stay there unharmed.”

“I…”

“Come, there's some people I want you to meet.” She drags me by the wrist again. Pulling me towards a nurse. “Nurse Gordon, this is the Carla I was talking about. I know, she’s a bit of a shy girl and I knew I had to rescue her she… She was so… helpless. She wouldn't even run out the door when the cops arrived to take her home.”

“I’m…” I sigh and look up at Nurse Gordon. Her eyes are on me then back at my sister. She must have thought we were twins.

“Young lady? Carla is it?” looking at me. I shake my head.

“Oh she’s just shy, after all she’s been through? Can you blame her for being shy around strangers? Carla, say ‘hi’ to Nurse Gordon. She’s been so nice to me here. The entire staff has been nice to me here. It’s just they all think I’m you. Can you believe that? Me? A scared little girl, like you? Honestly, I don’t see it.”

“Can I see ‘Carla’ for a moment?” the nurse asks my sister. Another nurse across the room is eyeing me for some reason.

“Well, that’s up to her. Like I said she’s really shy.” My sister turns to me and put her hands on my shoulders. “Okay, Carla, the nurse wants to speak with you for just a bit, okay? I’m right here so you don’t have to be scared, alright?“ I look up at Nurse Gordon, who looks back at me with a nod and sigh, casting my eyes downward. “Alright.” I reply as I walk with the nurse to another corner of the room. Carla has her eyes on me the whole time. I suspect, ready to jump to my aid at the first sign of trouble.

“Carla? Is it?”

“Angela, Carla, there, is my big sister.”

“Carla doesn’t have a sister. At least that’s some of what we’ve got from her.”

“Well yes and no. I’m transgender. I transitioned from Alexander to Angela after she was taken. They brought her to the house while I was in one of my therapy sessions.”

“You two look so much a alike, and you were so quiet and shy, that I almost believed her.”

“Is my sister going to be okay?”

“We’re doing our best to help her. It’s tough when she won’t face what’s happened to her. Now that she has you, it may help or it may hurt.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“As long as she sees you as ‘Carla’, its easier for her to think that all of this happened to you, not her. She sees herself as the one that rescued ‘Carla’. I’m sure that scene that played out at your home perhaps reinforced that notion.”

“So what do we do?”

“We can’t do anything. She has to face what happened to her.”

“But she wasn’t like this… We… We were talking that evening… Like sisters. She was asking me about my life and my friends. She was even calling me Angie. I… I don’t understand how she could suddenly think of me as her.”

“The doctors here are very good. They’ll work with your sister through her problems. The best thing you can do is be there for her, okay?” She rubs my arm trying to as best as she can to comfort me.

My sister approaches with another nurse who give me a look as if she knew me and smiles. “Carla, I have to go now, okay? You seem like your okay with Nurse Gordon. Nurse Young here is going to take me for some tests. I’m so glad to see that your safe. You, were the one that had me the most worried. I hope one day you can be someone that doesn’t have to be rescued all the time. Your stronger than you think, you just have to believe that.”

I look at my sister with tears in my eyes. What happened to you? She wipes the tears out of my eyes. “Toughen up, girl. You don’t want to be that your whole life, do you? You’re out of there, you’re free now, you can live your life.”

She pulls me into a hug. I whisper to her, “Please get better. I need my sister.”

She pulls back from me with a smile. “I’ll alway be there for you Carla, no matter what.”

She happily follows Nurse Young out. I stand there tears streaming down my face. I stare at the pair as they walk out the door. Nurse Gordon looks at me pulls me into a hug as my parents enter the room.

“Angie? You should have waited for us. Why would you run off like that?” Mom hesitates for a moment.

The nurse turns me over to my mom who pulls me into a hug of her own. “It’s alright baby girl, mommy’s here.”

“Ohh lemme see, lemme see!” Vanessa beams with excitement as she pulls the small card from Rhonda’s fingers.

“Hey! I was still looking at it!” Rhonda looked ruefully at Vanessa.

“So where are you going first?” Sherry adds.

“Mom won’t let me drive…” I say sadly.

Sherry reaches for the card and gives it a tug. “My turn.”

“Careful! Don’t rip it!” I admonish the trio.

“It’s only a temporary, you get the real one in a month or two.” Vanessa chimes back.

“I can’t believe it, one of us has a license now! This is going to be great!” Sherry’s excitement is unassailable.

“I may have a license, but I don’t have a car and my folks won’t let me drive.”

“What’s the point of having a driver’s license if you can’t drive.” Rhonda looks at me puzzled.

“Did you look at the name on the card?”

“Yeah, Angela Lynn Rhodes. So?” Vanessa reads from the card.

“Well the name change is official!” I grin.

The trio look at me puzzled.

“You added ‘Lynn’?” Sherry questions.

I shake my head… “Nevermind” I forgot, it’s been a lifetime since anyone has called me Xander.

“Hey Angie, we should go celebrate! Red Robin for some shakes?” Rhonda rarely suggests going to Red Robin. She waitresses there and likes to avoid it when not working.

“Sorry Rhonda, I’ve got to go to the hospital.”

“Are you sick?” Sherry looks at me concerned. Vanessa and Rhonda glare at her. “Oh… Sorry Angie.
How is she?”

“I don’t know. Some days she’s fine and others… I just don’t know until I get there.”

“I’m sorry, Ang. Is there anything we can do?” Vanessa looks at me. She worries about me. I’ve cried on her shoulder on more than one occasion.

“No, you all are great. I don’t know where I would be without all of you.” The sadness creeps in as my voice cracks at the end.

“Angie! Your mom’s here!” Vanessa’s mom calls out from the living room. I grab my purse and my temporary license from Sherry. After quick hug to all of them, I dash down the stairs. “Thanks, Mrs. Morgan!”

“Slow down, Angie!” She admonishes me as she stands at the doorway.

“Sorry, Mrs. Morgan.” I squeak out as I rush to give her a hug as I exit.

Mom’s waiting for me inside the car. “Did you have fun with your friends?”

“It was great, Mom! We were doing some pre-shopping shopping… for back to school.”

“Pre-Shopping?”

“Pre-Shopping, we get the shipment of new items in store a day or two before we have to steam them and put them on the rack. We usually have to tag and inventory everything as well. So when they first get put on display we’ve already decided what we like and don’t. We reserve them in advance for the sales. We save time and money! Isn’t that great?” She’s looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

“What happened to just shopping?” She starts the car and begins the short drive to the Hospital where Carla has lived since her episode 2 weeks ago.

“Mom, if we do that all the cute stuff will be snapped up by all the other shoppers. Especially, if I have to work on the sale days. And I’m not paying full price on any of that…”

“Alright sweetheart, I just don’t want all your money going to clothing.”

“It’s not. Though, I really do want a car…” We come to a halt at one of the busy intersections in town.

“We’re not starting that discussion again, young lady.” She glares at me.

“Why not? I’ve been saving as much as I can for it? And doesn’t it take enough of your time to drive me around everywhere.”

“What and miss quality time with my daughter?” She looks at me with an impish smile and accelerates when the light turns green.

“MOOOOM! I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“Well, the ‘MOOOM’ certainly undercuts that doesn’t it? And so does crossing your arms and huffing.” She adds with a giggle. “You’re sixteen young lady and you should act like it.”

“Isn’t whining and begging for a car, part of being sixteen?” I smile back.

“Don’t get smart with me young lady. We’re almost at the hospital. Please try to keep your composure there. Honestly, Angela, you’ve got to keep better control over your emotions. Crying at every little thing isn’t becoming. I do think we should talk to Dr. Watkins next week about your hormone levels. “

Mom parks the car. My anxiety begins to replace the distraction of the past week. The lot is full so we’re parked near the street. I wish I wore my athletic shoes as I look at the gravel covering the re-paved blacktop. My athletic shoes just wouldn’t work my maroon floral sundress. My ballet flats aren’t going to provide much in the way of cushion. Between my anxiety and the thought of stepping through the blacktop I start to wonder if mom will let me just sit in the car. My hopes are dashed when mom looks at me with a glare, "Get a move on Angela."

Mom’s pace is quicker than mine and I struggle to keep up. Her almost gauzy cardigan, tank top, and cargo shorts are on wrong side of chic; however her less than fashionable tennis shoes- I would kill for right now as my feet crunch over the jagged stones of the parking lot. She’s a good ten paces ahead of me by the time she reaches the revolving door entrance to the lobby. My heart begins to race as I approach the entrance to the hospital. Part of it is the walk, but I can feel my the pressure in my chest begin to build.

“Angela, hurry up!” mom chides my pace. The tiled floor in the hospital lobby is a relief from the overheated gravel-ridden blacktop outside. It’s late in the afternoon and the cold blast of the AC in the lobby brings a smile to my face. I also dries up the beads of sweat forming on my brow. The wait for the elevator only serves to grow my dread.

We take the elevator up, I stare as each floor number lights up 2, 3, 4 my heart is pounding and can feel my tremor grow. The doors open to the Behavioral Health wing I step out pensively while mom checks in with the nurse. Nurse Gordon eyes me and smiles. “She’s having one of her good days sweetheart.” I force a smile.

My heart breaks every time I come here. My sister is just so… broken. I can’t do anything. I'm caught between the fear and helplessness that swirl within me. I really don’t know how Mom copes with it all. I see her strength and I wish for the same. My wish isn't granted. She’s been through so much. They both have.

My mother steps through the door, then realizing that I’m not beside her turns sees me and closes her eyes and sighs. I haven’t moved from my spot in front of the reception desk. I just stand there staring at the entryway. She’s about to say something but stops when she sees the tears in my eyes. It saddens me that I can’t bring myself to walk in there one more time. It makes me angry that I can’t just fake a smile to go and see my broken sister. I’m ashamed of myself for making my mom choose between me and her other daughter. She’s chosen me once too often. I see her turn and walk though the doors and they close behind her.

***

“I’m a horrible sister.” I sit there staring at Mrs. Huffman. She’s back to tapping her pencil on her notepad again. She remains quiet. I’m expecting the question of ‘how does that make you feel?' I’m met with silence. “I should have went in there.” More tapping. “I just didn’t want to…” I stop look up at her. Her expressionless face gives me little to go on. I wonder why she isn’t saying anything.

“Are you through?” She say plainly.

I give her a puzzled look. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Did it make you feel any better?” Again another plain statement.

“No.” I relent.

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because saying something and not doing anything about it is pointless?”

That brings a smile to her face. She doesn’t have to say a word. I feel worse now but, at least I have something to go on. “I want you to do something for me.”

“Sure”

“Go through all of our sessions together and tell me what we’ve discussed.”

“What?”

“I said to go through each of our sessions and tell me what we’ve discussed.”

“Okay,” It’s an odd request. I’m not sure where this is going. “The first visit, we introduced each other, I told you about wanting to have a second letter for my transition and you asked me to write in a journal. The second visit we talked about what I wanted to do with my life, what my dreams were and how I saw myself happiest. The third visit I talked about my sister and missing her and wishing she was back in my life. The fourth visits, I talked about my sister’s return and that awful night. The fifth visit, I talked about visiting my sister in the hospital and the episode she had while I was there. And now I’m telling you I felt guilty about not visiting my sister on the last trip to the hospital.”

“Notice a pattern?”

“No, over the last few weeks it was mainly about my sister and before that it was about how I saw myself.”

“We never once discussed why you are really here.”

“My transition?”

“Yes.”

“What’s there to talk about? That part of my life is normal compared everything going on with my sister.”

“What if I told you that I was not going to write you that letter?”

“I don’t know, I’d be shocked. I think. Is it because my problems with my sister are dominating our sessions? I thought at least you would be someone I can talk to about my problems. I’m not supposed to share those with you?”

“Well you can share what it is you want but unless we get to the discussion on your transition, We’re not going to go anywhere.”

“So I have to choose between my issues with my sister and my transition? That’s not fair!”

“Why not? You were here to discuss your transition and not the issues with your sister.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Of course I can.”

“Well, if you can’t help me with my sister then I don’t see a reason to work with you on my transition. I’ll find someone that can help me with both.”

“You’d probably have to start over.”

“Fine by me. Is our session over?”

“Not quite. yet. There’s one more thing.”

“Here.” She walks over to me with a manila envelope.

“What is this?”

“What you came here for. Open it.”

I open the letter and read it and my eyes go wide. “Is real?”

“Yes, I’m sorry about all that before. I wanted to make sure you were going to seek help for your issues with your sister even after I handed you my recommendation.”

“This means I can…”

“Well, not until you’re 18 actually but, yes.”

It hits me the fortunate turn my life had taken and the opposite path my sister's had taken. The guilt of it washes over me. This is supposed to be one of the happiest moments in my life. I don't have my sister to share it with. I cry myself to sleep again that night as I have since my sister's episode. All I can wonder is What happened to her? Can she ever be the sister that returned to me that first evening or will she be the broken young woman that I feared to visit?

Please help her...

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.”

“Mom says to come down for breakfast.” A young voice calls out and echoes through my room.

“Mmmm five more minutes… Just give me five more minutes…” I smile gathering the comforter up closer to me stopping it just below my chin.

“Okay, then I’m going to eat your french toast.” The smell of maple syrup is in the air as the steam hits my face. My eyes open as the plate is pulled away from me and my eyes focus their way up the hand, arm, shoulder then the face of someone who looks so familiar to me but I can’t place him.

The young boy plops himself on my bed and stabs at the plate with a shiny fork. “Mas Mone!” He taunts me with his mouth full of syrup and french toast. “Mmmm.”

“You! Jerk!” I yell out as he jumps off my bed and runs down the hall, plate and all. Presumably to Mom again. The little scamp! I drag myself out of bed, rubbing my eyes and stretch out my arms. My robe awaits me on the chair at the far corner of the room which I pull on as I head into my bathroom. A quick shower then I wrap the towel around myself and another one for my hair. I grab my robe from the bathroom and walk back to my room throwing my robe back to my chair.

He’s standing there again… Staring at me. I’m still in my towel. “GET OUT OF HERE!” I yell out. He’s not moving. Is he checking me out? DID YOU HEAR ME, YOU PERVERT! I yell at the top of my lungs. A voice from downstairs calls back “Xander! I just told you to call your sister down for breakfast! Not to gawk at her in the process!” There’s a sense of deja vu. I dress and walk downstairs, the runt is gone. As I expected, there's a plate of french toast waiting for me there.

Somethings wrong… This already happened. But not to me… I’m standing there in the kitchen. This already happened. “Mom?” No answer. “Mom?” “Dad?” No answer.

“They’re not here.” A voice calls out from nowhere. “Why are you here?”

“I live here. Where should I be?”

“Why are you here?” The voice calls out again

“Carla?”

An apparition emerges sitting at the table across from me. “It should have been you.” She stares up at me. “They wouldn't have been able to do to you, what they did to me.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Her voice angry now. “They did things to me, because they could. Things they couldn't do to you… Instead, you got to be the daughter. You got Mom’s love. You got to be Daddy’s angel. What did I get? Raped, everyday for seven years. You got to live the life of a princess. I got the life of a beast of burden. You were…are… weak and pathetic. A spoiled little girl, who had everything. What did I have? Seven years as a sex slave.”

“It wasn’t my fault… I…”

“It was your fault! And you reaped the benefits of it! YOU GOT MY LIFE!!!”

“Please stop! It wasn’t my fault. Please. I didn’t know this would happen to you.”

“Then, you took my place, didn’t you! If you weren’t a skeavy little pervert!”

“I’m sorry…”

“No! You think this all ends with you saying ‘I’m sorry’? I am never forgiving you. YOU HEAR ME! I AM NEVER FORGIVING YOU. So wake up little girl! WAKE UP!”

***

I wake up in my room in a cold sweat. The lights are on as I look around. Daddy’s sleeping in Mr. Nibbles’ chair. My heart is pounding in my chest. My stiring causes him to wake from slumber. “hrumm… Princess? Angela? What’s wrong pumpkin?”

“It was horrible…” I’m frazzled and dripping with sweat. He looks over at me, and rushes over to me.

“Shhh! Baby girl it’s alright. Shhh.” The clock on my wall says 4:40. He kisses me on the crown of my head and rubs my arms.

“You had us worried, Princess. What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you like this in years. Is it Carla?”

“l don’t know, Daddy. I just want her to be… I just want her back.”

He pulls me toward him. I lay my head against him as he puts his arm around me. “It just takes time, Princess. She’s in good care. She’ll come back to us, when she’s ready. In the meantime, you just have to be patient with her.”

“This is not how it’s supposed to be…”

“What’s that, baby girl?”

“She was supposed to come back and… and we’d be a family again.”

“That’s a whole lot to ask. A lot has happened to your sister. It would have been a miracle if she made it through her ordeal without being…Well it’s a miracle she’s alive anyway.”

"Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure thing, baby girl”

“How do you do it? How do you go through each day, knowing your daughter is broken.”

“It’s easier now—to find hope in it all.” his answer surprises me.

“How?”

“Time… it just takes time. Well, that and the patience to let her find her way back to us.”

“How do you know that she will ever be better?”

“Because you did it first.” I give my dad curious look. “What? You don’t think I know how strong my daughters are?”

“I’m not strong at all… There is no way I could endure all that Carla’s been through.”

“I doubt that. You were strong enough show us who you really are… my sweet, beautiful daughter who fought for her place in the world. Now, how can I doubt that my other daughter has that same strength and spirit within her as well?”

I look up at him and give him a kiss on the cheek and a smile. “What’s that for, baby girl?”

“For being you…” I nuzzle back into him and drift back to sleep.

***

In the weeks that followed, I fell into a routine. School, work, home, nightmare, scream, cry. Lather, rinse, repeat. Mom and Dad would take turns to visit her in the evenings during the week. The weekends, I spent them visiting with Carla. I was, 'the sad, pretty girl' that would come to visit her. I had given up correcting people that I was her sister. Carla would always insist that she didn’t have a sister. Soon, I was really just known as Carla’s friend, Angie.

I’d visit and she’d ask me about my life and I'd share what I could. The hardest part was when she would tell me that I should meet her parents, because of 'how wonderful they are'. “My mom would love you! Maybe your mom and my mom could be friends too! Wouldn’t that be great!”

The first time I heard that, I began to cry. After the fourth or fifth time, I’d just nod and say “I’d like that.”

When I asked about her life, she’d tell me about what she would like to do when the doctors thought she was ready to go home.

She never asked me when she was going to go home. I’m not sure if she wondered why she stayed there in the first place. It was pleasant enough. They fed, bathed and clothed her. The nurses all thought of her as pleasant and cheery. I had over heard them joke that the wrong sister was in their care.

“Oh Angela, Carla is in her room today.” One of the nurses says to me as I was about to enter the community room.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where her room is.” I had never visited her room. The nurse walks me down a corridor of rooms, much like you’d see in old hospitals and points me towards a door. I open the door slowly and peek my head in.

“Angie! You’re here it’s good to see you. Are you here to spend the day with me again?”

“Yes, Carla” Her room is drab though there are several cards on the window sill. The room is small with a pair of uncomfortable looking chairs that may be as old as the building itself. The bed is a hospital bed. There are no nightstands just a table which looks like it’s suppose to cantilever over the bed so one could eat while in bed. There is a closet and a bathroom which are at the far corner of the room. The lights come from a series of fluorescent tube lights which hang down from the ceiling. Her room gets the sun in the morning. The view outside her window is the street though safety glass reminds you of whom would typically call this place home.

Carla is still in her bed. She’s not in a hospital gown, I don’t know why had expected she would. She wore a light blue sleep shirt which had a print of sunflowers on them. “It’s nice of you to visit. Do you visit with all the other people here during the week?”

“No Carla, I just come to visit you.”

“Me, I’m nobody special. There's a lot of people here that need cheering up. I love seeing you, but I hate to think that I’m keeping you all to myself.”

“Would you like me to brush your hair?”

“That would be nice”

I pull my brush from my purse and sit beside her on the bed.

“You do the same thing that mom does when she visits.”

“Oh and what’s that?”

“She love brushing my hair too. If you come during the week you could get a chance to meet her. What’s your mom like?”

“My mom is pretty and so is my sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yes, though I wasn’t always great to her. She was my Big Sister.”

“I wish I had a sister. Its just mom, dad and I. I had a brother though I think something happened to him after I was taken.”

“Really? I don’t have a brother, just the sister. What do you think happened to your brother?”

“I don’t know, mom and dad never talk about him. It’s like he never existed. At least they have me back, right?”

I continue brushing her hair. It keeps her from seeing the tears in my eyes.

“So are you and you sister close?”

“Not at first, I’m hoping she’ll want me back in her life again.”

“How can she not want you in her life. You’re so sweet, you’re caring and you’ve been great to me. How can she not want anything to do with you. She’s crazy not to want you as a sister. Any girl would be lucky to call you their sister.”

“Coming from you… That means alot to me.”

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.