I closed the screen door shut. Its hinges wailed, begging to be oiled. My old sneakers hopped down the wobbly wooden steps as I rushed towards the forest behind the house. The sun was lost in the sky, leaving it a twilight shade of blue. Clouds crowded the air, threatening to cry. I stopped behind the tool shed to grab the rusting shovel hidden under the bench. I needed it for my walk.

I strolled into the forest, my sneakers dragging on the freshly fallen leaves. Trees stretched out their gaping dead arms, grabbing anything in their path. My striped, brown sweater snagged on a branch which sent down a flurry of leaves. One leaf stuck to my jeans. It was a light shade of brown, similar to my sister Amy’s hair. Forcefully forgotten memories flooded their way into my mind.

Officer Rennet had come by our house earlier today to offer his condolences. He leaned against the wall while we sat on our beige couch. “I hate to break it to you, but we’re probably never going to be able to find Amy. Chances are that she just ran away.”

My dad began pacing. “Where could she have gone? She took nothing with her, no cash or anything. She didn’t mention the thought of leaving to me or her mother or even Mary.”

“Sometimes it happens, with teenagers. We’ve done all that we could. You can check the security footage again, if you want. I mean, in the past two months, we haven’t even been able to conclude whether she made it home from school or not.” Officer Rennet gathered his things.

I wasn’t sure how to feel. I felt more numb than sad. When we were younger, Amy was cooler, always coming up with the most fun games to play. We spent nearly every day together then. The sun shone down on us as we swam in the rocky creek, our laughter drowning out our fights. We stole the likely expired ice pops from the freezer, and sat in a tree licking them until our tongues went numb. My ideas for games were never as good as hers, but I didn’t mind. Amy was an icon in my eyes. As we got older, Amy slowly began to distance herself from me. She no longer wanted to go on adventures near the creek or play pranks on our parents. The more she ignored me, the worse I felt. Maybe she thought that I wasn’t good enough for her. I wasn’t sure. I hated how she could just ignore me, treat me like I was worthless. I never understood why she changed so much. We had gone from being best friends to constantly being at odds with each other.

I crushed a dry, brown leaf beneath my foot, tearing it to pieces as I turned my thoughts back to the past. Amy quickly found ways to get me grounded, just so that I could be out of her way. 

“She’s crazy!” Amy once shrieked, “she stole all my money!”

“Mary! You can’t steal just because you’re upset with Amy.”

“But I didn’t take her money! Why can’t you believe me?”

“You’re always doing something like this just to spite Amy. Why can’t you just leave the poor girl alone?”

Amy had blinded our parents. The smirk on her face when she got her way infuriated me, and I felt like I was closing into a shell. With each new accusation of me sneaking out or breaking a vase, I only felt more withdrawn. 

I look into the sky, which has darkened quickly. I needed to hurry. A shard of glass glistened from beneath the dirt. I picked it up, tracing my veins. This is what Amy had always wanted. But doing this would only prove that I was a failure, just like she said.

“You can’t even get Mom or Dad to listen to you, Mary. You want to bet that they’ll throw you in an asylum soon? You want to be a psychiatrist right? It’ll be a miracle if you even make it through high school!” she had cackled.

A tree woke me up from my memory, scratching my hand with its rough twigs. I grumbled. Amy didn’t deserve my memory. She didn’t deserve anything. My parents had gone to the police station to review the security footage from outside the school one last time. We had watched the recordings hundreds of times and had seen her get onto the school bus. My parents were both at work when she was due to arrive home, but I was feeling unwell that day. I told them that I was sick before school. I told them that Amy never came home.

With bitterness still on my lips, I reached the spot. I stabbed my shovel into the ground. I hate Amy. I put the dirt into a pile. I wish that she would leave me alone. I pushed the shovel into the ground one more time. I wish that Amy never existed. I sifted out some more dirt until I saw a delicate and dirty hand peeking out of the ground. My heart was pounding as I began to pant. Good, she’s still here.