You were there and then you weren't. Then you did it again, and again, and again. Honestly, I lost count. Somewhere along the line, I lost count of how many time I'd lay in bed crying, begging for you to come back. I lost count of how many times you came back and I held my arms wide open, like nothing happened. Like I was never hurt. I was just happy to have my older sister back in my life. My best friend.

You've been gone for three years now and the only reason I know you're alive is because I happened to see you on my way home. You were on the side walk. I didn't know it was you until I got closer. You were tripping, like always. It broke my damn heart. I wanted to go back, turn around, cover you in a blanket and keep you safe. Take care of you, like I used to when dad hit you. I wanted to protect you. I didn't turn around, though. I didn't stop the car. I didn't take you some place safe. There was another emotion in that moment, too. Intense anger, borderline hatred. Hatred for everything you put me through, hatred for breaking my heart all over again and for the final time, but most of all was hatred for the choice I had to make. The position you put me in and a large part of my heart you ripped away.

I felt all of that and I didn't turn around. I cried, though. For the first time in a long time, I cried. I couldn't stop crying and I truly thought I wasn't ever going to stop. I cried more than I had since I was a child. I cried because I missed my sister. I cried because I don't know if you're still there, anymore. More than that, I cried because all I wanted for so long was to see you again, and I couldn't control myself enough to turn the car around.

I couldn't turn the car around just like I turned around and left you alone at the bus three years ago. I remembered a quote both times this happened, though I forget the episode and the season. "I may be the one walking away, but you're the one that's leaving. Again." -The Walking Dead. Whether I'm right or wrong, this is how I feel.