My Sister Vanished, But Everyone Says I Was Always an Only Child

1: 1

When my stepfather was in a bad mood, he took it out on me with his fists.

My mother was afraid of him. She looked away from his violence like it wasn't happening.

It was my older sister who threw herself in front of me, over and over, taking the blows so I didn't have to.

Until one day, she was gone.

I looked everywhere. I couldn't find her.

I asked my mother, and she frowned.

"What's wrong with you now? What sister? You don't have a sister."

My stepfather and my mother exchanged a look. Something strange passed between them.

A bad feeling took root inside me.

My sister told me she would always protect me.

She would never leave me. Not unless something had happened to her.

...

I hid back in my room and called her.

A mechanical woman's voice came through: "The number you have dialed is not in service."

Before I could double-check the number, my bedroom door flew open with a kick.

My stepfather's palm cracked across my face.

"Get in there and make dinner. What are you dragging your feet for? You expect me to wait on you?"

My face burned. I nodded fast, over and over, and squeezed past him before his next slap could land.

My hands wouldn't stop shaking as I beat the eggs, and the chopsticks slipped and fell to the floor.

I bent down to pick them up, and that was when I caught sight of it. A small dark-red smear under the cabinet.

Blood.

I looked around. The kitchen floor was clean, clearly wiped down not long ago.

That smear had probably been missed only because it was tucked under the cabinet.

My stepfather walked in and kicked me in the backside.

"Damn it, you can't even hold onto a pair of chopsticks? You're doing this on purpose to piss me off, aren't you?"

My mother came over. She saw my body shaking beyond my control, crouched down, and followed my line of sight.

"Killed a chicken today. Must've splashed. Missed a spot wiping up."

Her voice held no warmth at all. She picked up a rag and reached out to wipe the blood away.

I don't know where the strength came from. I grabbed her wrist.

"That's my sister's blood, isn't it?"

"What did you do to her? Where is she now?"

"Why is her number disconnected?"

My mother frowned.

"You've been talking nonsense since you walked in the door. What sister? Where would you even get a sister?"

"I think you're just begging for a beating!"

She shoved me away hard.

I rolled over, pushed myself up off the floor, and pulled out my phone with trembling hands.

"You killed my sister, didn't you?"

"I'm calling the police. You're murderers!"

My stepfather's face went dark. He stalked over, ripped the phone out of my hand, and smashed it against the wall.

It hit the floor hard. The screen shattered to bits.

"Damn it, you really are trying to make my life hell, aren't you?"

My mother used the moment to wipe the blood away with the rag.

They were afraid. They were covering it up.

I forced myself to calm down.

I'd been too rash just now.

But I had to call the police as soon as I could. Otherwise there'd be less and less evidence left.

I made myself look scared, and quietly picked up the pan to cook.

In the middle of the night, I sat up in bed and picked up the phone my stepfather had smashed.

But it wouldn't turn on anymore.

I crept to the door of the master bedroom.

My stepfather's and mother's snores came in steady rhythm.

I put my hand on the knob, turned it slowly, and held my breath as I moved to my mother's side of the bed.

Her phone was right there on the nightstand.

The instant I reached for it, my stepfather rolled over, his face turning straight toward me.

I almost cried out. I dropped down fast, my heart slamming against my ribs.

A few seconds passed, and his snoring started up again.

I lifted my hand, carefully closed it around my mother's phone, stood, and walked quickly out of the room.

Back in my room, I was shaking so hard I couldn't even press the lock button.

I tried a few times, and the screen finally lit up.

I opened the emergency call, pressed those three numbers, my voice small and rushed.

"I need the police. My stepfather killed my sister!"

2: 2

After the call, my heartbeat finally began to settle, bit by bit.

I sat in the corner with my arms wrapped around my knees. I don't know how long it was before the elevator chimed on our floor.

Then the doorbell.

I opened the bedroom door. Edgar saw me standing there fully dressed and his face darkened.

"Damn it, I was wondering who's ringing the bell in the middle of the night. This is your doing again!"

"You ordered delivery, didn't you? You little brat, you're asking for it!"

His hand was already rising when my mother's startled voice cut in.

"O-officers? What are you doing here at this hour?"

The lead officer flashed his badge.

"Dispatch received a report. You're suspected of murdering your own daughter."

Edgar and my mother froze for a beat, then whipped around to look at me.

"Claudia, did you call the police?"

"Officer, please don't listen to her nonsense. This daughter of mine, there's something wrong with her head."

"Besides, she's the only daughter we've got. Look at her, she's standing right here, perfectly fine, isn't she?"

I threw myself forward, right up to the officer.

"Officer, they're lying. I have a sister, and today she suddenly disappeared!"

"Her phone's disconnected now too. They must have killed her!"

"My stepfather has always been violent. He's already"

"What the hell are you spouting!"

Edgar roared, his arm swinging up before he caught himself and remembered the officers were there.

"Officer, she doesn't have any sister. She's been babbling like this ever since she got home today."

"I scolded her a couple of times, that's all. She's throwing a tantrum on purpose."

Edgar forced a smile at me.

"Claudie, if you didn't want to cook, you could've just said so. Why put on this whole show? The officers here are very busy"

But there was fear buried in his eyes. I could see it clearly.

I ducked behind the officer, my whole body shaking.

"I'm not lying, Officer. I have proof. I saw blood under the kitchen cabinet, only my mother wiped it away"

The officer followed me to the kitchen. I dropped to the floor and pointed for them.

"Right here. There was a little pool of blood here during the day!"

My mother shot me a vicious glare. "Didn't I already tell you? That was chicken blood!"

"Officer, don't listen to her. I was chopping a chicken during the day and some splashed on the floor by accident."

An officer in white gloves crouched down and sprayed something onto the floor.

A minute later, he called out.

"Captain Lambert, we've got a blood reaction. There was definitely blood here!"

My mother started. "I told you, it was chick"

The officer cut her off sharply. "Quiet! Not another word from you from now on!"

The officer took a tool and scraped at the floor a couple of times.

Captain Lambert gave my shoulder a reassuring pat.

"Don't worry, kid. Even if it was wiped up, we can still detect it."

"Blood isn't that easy to clean off completely. There's always some residue left behind."

The white-gloved officer bent over his work off to the side, running the test.

"Captain Lambert, the results are in!"

3: 3

Captain Lambert leaned in fast.

"Well?"

The forensic tech wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"This blood, it's definitely not human."

"It's animal blood. Best guess, poultry."

My stepfather and my mother couldn't get the words out fast enough.

"Officers, you've been played!"

"I told you my daughter isn't right in the head, and you insisted on believing her. You wouldn't even let me speak, you went to all this trouble running tests."

"Would it have killed you to check the family records? I already told you, I only have one daughter!"

The officers' faces darkened.

Captain Lambert made a call.

"Run a check for me. Unit 1002, Building A, Brookside Gardens, Edgar Chavez. Who's registered in the household."

"Only three people? No older daughter named Norma Dickerson?"

He hung up and looked at me, displeased.

"Young lady, how could you lie like this? You don't have a sister at all!"

I shook my head wildly.

"I do have a sister. Her records aren't here, they were under my real dad. She was only brought over here after he died!"

My mother shoved me hard. "Claudia, are you ever going to stop with this nonsense?"

She dug a document out of the cabinet.

"Officers, look. I only ever gave birth to this one child!"

I stared at the paper in her hand, unable to believe it.

"It's fake, that's fake!"

"Officer, that's a forged document!"

An officer took it and scanned it with his phone.

"The document's genuine."

Something inside me broke completely. I grabbed my mother's arm, my face a mess of tears and snot.

"Where did you get that? Are you going to erase my sister's existence just to protect this man?"

"She's your daughter too. She was so good, she cooked for you, did the laundry, how could you let her die for nothing!"

"Are you even human!"

My mother threw me off, her voice shaking.

"Claudia, what are you talking about!"

"Officers, she's sick in the head, please don't believe a word she says!"

I shoved my sleeves up high. My arms were covered in scars, patch after patch of them, ugly enough to stop the breath.

I dropped to my knees in front of the officers, past caring.

"My stepfather is violent. Officer, he did all of this, my stepfather beat me, I'm not lying!"

"My mom's afraid of him. That's the only reason she keeps covering for him!"

"I'm begging you, please help me find my sister, please"

The officer looked at my wounds, then cut his eyes to my stepfather.

"You did this?"

My mother rushed to stand in front of him.

"No, officer, the child doesn't listen. I lost my temper and smacked her a few times."

"Her stepfather would never lay a hand on her. We agreed when we married, my child is mine to raise."

She lifted her chin, sure of herself. "She's the daughter I gave birth to. Am I not even allowed to discipline her?"

The officer's face was stern.

"What you're describing is domestic abuse."

"You don't teach a child by hitting them. You reason with them."

My mother nodded again and again.

"You're right. I promise I'll never raise a hand to her again."

Tears running down my face, I shook my head desperately.

"That's not it. It was my stepfather. Every day he's in a bad mood, he beats me"

My mother's glare snapped to me. "Are you ever going to run out of lies?"

"Officer, you see how it is. Every other word out of her mouth is a lie. How am I supposed to not be angry?"

4: 4

The officer had stopped believing me too.

"Sweetheart, whatever the trouble is, you talk it out. You don't file a false report over it."

"That's a crime, you understand? You're old enough to go to jail for it."

I opened my mouth, then said nothing.

Say more, and no one would believe me anyway.

It would only earn me a worse beating.

I lowered my head, tears filling my eyes.

Captain Lambert waved a hand, and the group left our apartment.

The elevator doors slid shut.

Tenth floor, ninth floor... first floor.

The moment my stepfather saw it stop on the ground floor, he slammed the front door shut.

His face twisted, and he came at me.

"So now you steal your mom's phone and call the cops? Grown some nerve, huh? You want to send me away, is that it?"

His fist crashed into my face.

"I'll teach you to call the cops!"

Blood flooded my mouth. My teeth had gone loose.

I scrambled and crawled under the bed.

"I was wrong, Uncle, please don't hit me, I was wrong!"

He stood at the edge of the bed, jabbing the mop hard at my body, cursing without pause.

I lay flat under the bed, not daring to move an inch.

Then I caught sight of a small pool of liquid.

In the light from the ceiling, I could just make out that it was dark red.

Blood. There was blood here too.

If they'd really only killed a chicken, how could blood have gotten under the bed in my bedroom?

My sister must have hidden here.

Either they'd beaten her badly, or... she was already dead.

But even if she was dead, a body isn't so easy to get rid of.

Where had they hidden her?

Then I remembered. We had a big chest freezer, and a few days ago Mom had gotten someone to move it down to the basement.

When I asked why the freezer had to go to the basement, she brushed me off and said it was broken.

Could it be they'd been planning this all along...

I don't know how long it went on, but at last my stepfather wore himself out from hitting me and from cursing.

He threw the mop down hard against the floor, dragged my mom back into their bedroom, and locked the door from the inside.

I stayed flat under the bed, not daring to move, until their snoring started.

My whole mind was fixed on one thing. Call the police.

But after that scene earlier, the police wouldn't believe me again.

I had to find my sister first, and get proof.

Barefoot, I made my way step by step toward the front door.

The basement key hung on the hook in the entryway.

I lifted it down carefully, opened the door, and slipped out.

I felt my way through the dark to the basement, fumbling the key at the lock a few times before it finally slid into the hole.

The lock turned, and I stepped inside and shut the door.

By the faint moonlight coming through the small basement window, I saw that "broken" chest freezer sitting there.

Its motor was still running, humming a low, heavy drone.

The freezer wasn't broken at all, yet my mom had gone to all that trouble to move it down here...

Dread crept over me, wave after wave.

My hands shaking, I gripped the freezer lid and heaved it up with everything I had.

I leaned in to look inside, but it was pitch black, and I couldn't see a thing.

I reached in to feel around, and the second my fingertips touched the cold air of the freezer, the sound of a key turning came from behind me.

I whipped around.

The door was being pushed open.