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I dropped my books and kicked on the light in my room. It had been the worst day. First day and everyone was asking about Jessi. All the teachers, all of her friends, all of my friends. So now I was going to have to go and visit her, and tell her that she was missed. And make sure that she knows that this person sends her love and this teacher wishes her well. Very few people would actually ask me about my summer, and those were the people who had no idea that I even had a sister.
“Do my English homework, or go visit my sister?” I asked of the always empty room, half hoping for a response.  “Better stick to the norm.” I decided. I did my English homework, which was to describe my family. I was unsure whether or not to tell about my deranged sister, who just so happened to be doing the same thing my grandmother had done a few months before.
The odd thing about my sister and my grandmother both going off the deep end within months of one another, was the fact that they were so alike. My Granny and my sister were always so much like one another. When ever we went to Massachusetts Granny and Jessi would disappear for hours at a time. See everyone in my family likes history. Me and my mom both liked to read about it from this nice safe chair with it in our hands. My sister and my Granny both liked to go and walk the paths and talk to the people directly descended from whoever, that had done whatever.
One time we went and they went out for a little jaunt across town. They didn't come back until the next day, because one of the descendants of the Mayfields' Captain had invited them to come and visit his great-great-great times a hundred grandfathers old journals and letters.
Then I decided I had put off visiting with Jessi long enough. As I exited from my room I touched the carved wooden crucifix hanging on my wall by my door. Before I ever left my room I touched that cross. It was tradition, and when ever I didn’t touch it I usually had a bad day. Whether it is because I didn't touch it or not is all in my head. I doubt I will ever be able to figure out if it is because I didn't or because I think that is why.
I walked the twelve feet from my room to her door. I opened the door exposing the dark room to the hall light. The room hadn’t seen sunlight in two months. My dad had painted the windows outside and in with paint a shade of black that is only seen inside of the gates of the kingdom of Satan. Layers upon layers of darkness. The floor was covered in paper and books, make up and clothing, all from her latest breakdown. The light pine dresser had been emptied or nearly so. The drawers spilled open with a few shirts fighting gravity to remain inside the drawer.
The bed had been over turned, breaking the reddish lava lamp into a mass of shards of glass laying on the wetness seeping into the floor, so much so that it looked like the bed was bleeding out. The only thing on the small bedside table was Salem’s Lot by Stephen King and the King James Bible.
But in the corner, there she was, like always. Her gray eyes had become sunken but it looked like they were darkening. Her brown hair was twisted and frizzed around her head. But the hair at her scalp was a few shades lighter than I remember. She wore her oldest jeans that were shredding while she wore them and a large shirt. She wasn’t getting any bigger but no smaller either. Her hands were thin and all knuckles.
She sat there, staring at the floor a few feet away from her like it held the solution to every problem the world had come to know. Her hands were toying with the ends of her shirt, twisting and untwisting, again and again, endlessly. Her lips moved slightly parted moving to quickly and to low for me to understand what she was saying.
“Hey.” I said hesitantly, my voice breaking against my will. I had tried to sound like I had had a wonderful day. It sounded like I had done my job. She looked at me like I had two heads, never moving anything but her eyes to acknowledge my forcibly cheerful greeting. Well then maybe I hadn't done it. I came in and shut the door. Instant blackout. I could no longer see her, my glasses didn’t help darkness, but I could hear her. The rub of cloth on cloth, the faint parting of lips and the whisper of words in the wind that would be heard by none. These were the sounds of my sister. Or they had been for the last few months. I swear I could almost hear her blood racing through out her veins. Or that could  be mine, I really wasn't sure.
Her whispers started to increase in volume, taking definition, becoming actual words. For a faint moment I thought she might actually be returning my greeting, for a faint moment I hoped and prayed that my sister might come back to us. That she would lift her head up all the way and yell at me for coming in her room without knocking, then we would get into a scrapple just like we used to. Her voice was raspy as it hadn’t been raised above a whisper in so long.
“Destruction cometh: and they shall seek peace, and there shall be none. He only is my rock and my salvation: he is my defense; I shall not be moved. Amen, amen I say to you unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day.”
Her voice rose slowly, but steadily, so that it was no longer a whisper but just above. But it sounded life sandpaper on sandpaper.
“Mr. Varnin said he can’t wait to see you. I have him fifth period.” I gave the message that the trigonometry teacher had asked that I convey to her.
“‘Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery: but I say unto you, that whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.”
“Ha, yea, he is a pervert, isn’t he?” I said trying to figure out why my sister was quoting the Bible. “Claire might come over a little bit later.”
“Thou shalt not lie with mankind as with woman kind: it is abomination.” She said this and moved her head from side to side, slowly. Her eyes never moving from that one spot.
“Hey! What are you implying?” I was offended for my best friend.
“That’s she is a dike!” This wasn’t my sister’s raspy voice. It sounded like my grans sweet old lady voice, only gran had died five years ago. I wouldn’t believe it unless I  asked.
“Gran?” I said quietly, I didn’t think she heard me. But she did.
“Who else, HonePot? And yes Claire’s a dike. Your whole family knows and has for years. You just look the other way don’t you, HonePot? You would love that girl if she confessed to killing the Lindbergh baby” Why am I talking to my Grandmother? She is supposed to be six feet under. I had to get out of there. That’s just to……. I turned around and ripped open the door.  I stood in the mid afternoon light, and the doorbell rang. And I jumped like a cat on a hot tin roof. ‘Calming thoughts, calming thoughts. Take it one step at a time. Jeez kid, cool it. That’s all I need. Is to calm down. Walk up the steps.’ I had to tell myself that. So, for once, I took my advice and walked up.
“Who is it?” I called to whoever was leaning on the doorbell.
“Clare!” my best friend and girlfriend called. So, obviously, I opened the door. Her cinnamon hair was windblown from driving here with the top down in her sparkly green Mustang GTO. Her green eyes were anticipant.