Trigger warnings: death, psychological abuse, near-fatal overdose, substance abuse

 

Three Years Ago

 

The sirens kept sounding in her mind. No matter what she did, María couldn’t get them to stop. Her parents sat in front of her––her mom silent, like she had been for the past week, her father yelling like he had been her whole life. She could see his lips moving, but only hear the sirens. The sirens that came before her twin sister was taken away.

 

Before her body was taken away. You’d already taken her life away. 

 

She didn’t need to hear her father to know that’s what he was saying. He’d been saying it ever since Hwasa was found… María couldn’t picture it again. She covered her ears, squeezed her eyes shut so tightly tears leaked out, but nothing worked. 

 

“Are you even listening to me?” Her father bellowed. 

 

Her mother just shrank further and further into herself. 

 

“You’re lucky we didn’t turn you in to the cops, María,” her father continued. “We know Hwasa wouldn’t have wanted that.” 

 

He was silent for a beat and María thought maybe he was finally done, but then his voice turned cold. 

 

“She was always the good one. You should be the one in the ground.”

 

He stormed off, and she listened to a series of doors slam as he left the house. She knew he would come home reeking of alcohol. He had every night since Hwasa died. 

 

María looked at her mom, but her mom just stared through her, seeing something only she could. Maybe she saw Hwasa in her school uniform, just like she had been that night, laughing at a joke during dinner. María was sitting where Hwasa always had, she realized. She jumped up as if the chair was burning her.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “This is your seat.” 

 

Her mother looked up at her for a moment, her face scrunching together as if she didn’t understand, but then her eyes turned blank again. María knew she’d lost her again, and she wondered if she’d ever really come back. 

 

María slipped into her room and stared at where her sister used to sleep. The first night, she couldn’t even look at Hwasa’s bed. But after that, she took to sleeping in it. The pillow still smelled of her sister’s Forget-Me-Not scented shampoo. María breathed it in, knowing the smell wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, her own would overtake it. Eventually, it’d be like Hwasa had never been there at all.

 

“But I am here.”

 

María turned around and around, frantically looking for her sister. 

 

“Hwasa? Hwasa-ya?” She buried her face in her sister’s pillow to stifle her sobs.

 

“I’m so sorry, Hwasa-ya. I didn’t mean it.”

 

“Mean what?”

 

“To… to kill you,” María pushed her face further into the pillow, wishing she could suffocate herself. “Why wasn’t it me?”

 

“Don’t say that, María-ya. You’re saying scary things nowadays.” 

 

“That’s because you’re gone. What point is there in my living?” 

 

María opened a small chest she normally kept on her side of the room, but had recently moved next to Hwasa’s bed. It felt almost sacrilegious to do so, but she couldn’t stop herself. She needed it now more than ever.

 

As she took a swig from the soju bottle, she hated that it made her like her father, but she had to forget. She took another swig, and another, and soon it was empty, and then a second, and then… 

 

Hwasa was standing over her. 

 

“María-ya, stop. Stop doing this to yourself.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” she slurred. “Just fine.” 

 

“You’re not fine.” 

 

“I need to stop hearing the sirens.” 

 

She went back to her box. 

 

She pulled out something she’d gotten off a kid at school. He hadn’t really explained it well, or maybe he had and she was too high at the time to take it in. There were three little pills, plain white, mysterious. Not mysterious enough to stop her from swallowing them dry since she was out of soju. 

 

“María-ya…” 

 

María saw Hwasa on the other side of the school courtyard, laughing with her friends. She spotted María and waved, running over after saying goodbye to her friends. Her face was so bright, her smile so wide. She swung her backpack around to her chest and pulled out two energy drinks, giving one to her sister. 

 

María smiled and twisted the lid off with a crack.

 

Crack.

 

Suddenly she was at the top of the stairs. 

 

Crack.

 

It wasn’t the bottle making that noise.

 

Crack.

 

It was her sister. Her sister’s neck.

 

The sirens blared. She remained at the top of the stairs, staring down at Hwasa, unable to move. 

 

She heard her father sitfly telling the officers Hwasa fell. Slipped. Tumbled. 

 

Crack.

 

There was so much blood.

 

She heard her mother wailing, screaming. 

 

But most of all, she couldn’t stop hearing the sirens as they approached the house, and the utter silence as they left. 

 

No need to rush a dead girl’s body to the hospital. 

 

Then everything went black.

 

***

 

When María woke up the next morning, there was vomit on the bed. She was freezing, but sweating more than she ever had in her life. She was shaking uncontrollably. 

 

But all she could think was she’d ruined Hwa Sa’s bed. She’d ruined one of the only pieces she had left of her twin. 

 

When her mom eventually slid the door open to look at her one surviving child, her face went pale. When her father appeared in the door, he yelled and yelled. 

 

The sirens still wouldn’t stop.

 

Somewhere in all the noise, she heard her own voice. 

 

“Take me away, aboji. Lock me up. Please.”

 

He was finally silent. 

 

Her mother was on her knees, her head in her hands, but she didn’t say anything.

 

There were no sirens. There was no ambulance. There was just her and her father in the car. No matter how much she’d brushed her teeth, she couldn’t fully erase the smell of vomit and alcohol. When she caught sight of herself in the side mirror, she almost didn’t recognize herself. 

 

She walked into the hospital with her father, who filled out all the paperwork and handed it to the nurse. He looked his daughter over once before turning around and walking out without another word. 

 

“Come on, sweetie,” the nurse said, gently taking her arm. “We’ll get you changed, have the doctor look you over. Oh, you don’t look so good. You don’t feel well, do you? We’ll have you feeling better soon. Your father said you took something last night––what was it?”

 

The nurse waited, but María was silent. 

 

“We’ll figure it out, don’t you worry.” She guided her down the hall. 

 

She guided her to where she’d spend the rest of her life.