My eyes flittered open.
Darkness engulfed me. Heaving a desolate sigh, I pushed myself out of bed. With practised smooth movements, I glided to the door. I was no stranger with darkness. Why? I could only see darkness, and nothing else. I am blind.
After making my way to the kitchen, I felt a warm hand grasped mine and shoving a bowl of cereal in my hands. She never talked to me at all. That sister of mine. Initially, I thought that she was just a quiet girl who enjoyed solitude. Imagine all the hardships she had to undergo to raise me up. My parents died on my first birthday celebration. Deep down, I reckoned she had always blamed me for our parents' death. So she avoided all kinds of conversation.
My sharp sense of hearing caught the feverish stirring and a delicious smell of coffee wafted to my nose. She was dosing herself with coffee again. It usually meant that she was coming home late. Once again. Sometimes, I loathe her. For always abandoning me at home and not speaking to me at all.
"Are you going to come home late again?", I implored.
Silence.
"What's for dinner then?"
Silence.
Then, I just blew my top off. In a fit of boiling rage, I swept the bowl of unfinished cereal on the floor and bellowed. Rage flamed my face and flaring wide my nostrils, as I spat.
"You're NEVER home. You NEVER care. I HATE you."
Tension sizzled in the air as I gave an insolent stare at the direction my sister would probably be. Moments passed. The chair shuffled and my sister's quiet footsteps glided towards me. I twisted in my seat and recoiled in fear of her slapping me. I didn't know why I flinched. My sister never laid a hand on me. As expected, I heard the gathering of the cereal into the bowl.
Why couldn't she chide me? I was so desperate for interaction that I even released my temper, in hopes of her arguing with me. The passive her just couldn't be enraged.
That's what I thought so. Until, that day when my sister fell sick and her best friend came over to lend a helping hand. Cheerful, she always bounded towards me and rambled about things. She did add colours and life to our dreary house.
"Kate?"
"Yes honey?"
"How I wish you're my sister. You cared for me and talked to me. Unlike someone."
My sincere wish was left unreplied and I feared that it might had frightened her.
"I could never compare to what your sister had done. I would never be so brave like her."
That instant, she spilled eveything to me. My sister had two jobs while studying. Working ceaselessly all day, was to grant me a forsaken wish. To return my eyesight to me. There was an operation that cost thousands. For my sake, she begged every hospital to accept my operation and to plead for donors. Guilt pounded my heart.
"Why didn't she tell me anything about this?"
"How could she? What could you have done anyway?"
"She never spoke to me at all!"
"Oh dear. Didn't you know? She can't speak."
Reality smacked me in the face. Blood drained from my wan face. Scalding hot tears welled in my puffy eyes, threatening to slip.My heart slammed against my ribs. Choking on my tears, I pleaded her to explain what she meant.
"Your sister cannot talk. She is a mute."
That night, I stayed faithfully by her side. Using my smooth unmarred hands, I grasped her rough toughened hand in mine. That whole night, I ran my fingers down her face. Meticulously, I memorised every single detail of her face. Tears that were brimming in my eyes slipped down the contours of my face. There was so much I wanted to tell her. So much apologies. So much gratitude that it was bursting in my heart.
I really wanted to see my beloved sister.
I wanted to hear her speak...
