“I had to, Jim! She had to be prepared and informed! I
couldn’t just not tell her. She’s strong.
She has the help she needs to survive, too,” my mother
responded.
It was hard to imagine it all. I mean, I was never into those
Halloween-y types of myths and legends, but now they’re all
coming to life in my own house. What else is real? Vampires?
Werewolves? I scoffed and rubbed a hand down my face. Now these
fictional characters are going to try to kill my sister? I
don’t think so.
“Kylie, honey,” my mother called, “Come here,
please.”
I heard Kylie’s door open as she slowly shuffled down the
hallway with her face in her hands.
My dad immediately got up and ran over to her, wrapping her in
his arms. Kylie uncovered her face, revealing her
tear-flooded face. She was struggling to breathe, hiccupping and
coughing. Kylie’s not much of a crier. She doesn’t
exactly express her feelings like other girls unless you’re
completely alone with her and beg her to fess up, which is why I
felt terrible seeing her this way. It reminded me that although
my family and I may look miserable about this whole thing, Kylie
is really the only one suffering.
I numbly walked towards my dad and wrapped my arms around them
both. I don’t know how I’m supposed to cope with all
of this.
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“Whatcha
doing?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she sighed, braking out of her daze.
“What where you thinking about?”
“I don’t know…”
“You know you can tell me anything, Kyl.”
“I know…I’ll just tell you later,” she
said, avoiding my stare.
“Okay,” I shrugged, moving towards my mother.
“Need some help?” I asked, taking a few cups of hot
chocolate from her hands.
“Oh sure,” she said in a calm tone and then turning
back to the stove.
I handed one to my dad, Evan, and Drew, but when I walked back to
my mother to get a few more cups of cocoa, there was a knock at
the door.
My family and I exchanged a few glances before turning back to
the door.
“I’ll get it,” I offered, walking towards the
door and turning the handle.
Standing in the doorframe was an elderly looking man with a long,
white beard and tired, saggy skin falling around his face, which
showed an unreadable expression.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hemlock,” he said sternly,
“I’ve come for Kylie.”
I didn’t understand what he meant. In one quick movement,
my mother gasped and the pot of hot cocoa escaped her shaking
hands, falling towards the ground, threatening to scar her
dainty, withered legs.
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Noah’s Point if View:
It was snowing outside, but when you live in the city, it
doesn’t exactly stick to the ground when cars are
constantly running through it all. The only place in sticks is on
our balcony, because nothing hits it too hard all the way up by
our window on the twenty-fourth floor of our apartment building
in Harlem. It’s got three bedrooms, a kitchen, a living
room, a mudroom, and two bathrooms. It would be a great three or
four-person apartment. Too bad there’s seven of us,
including my parents.
I’ve got one sister and three brothers. My sister Kylie is
the youngest; she’s sixteen. My name’s Noah;
I’m twenty-one and the oldest of all my other
siblings. Evan and Drew are twins. They’re both
eighteen. Joey’s twenty. My brothers all share a room
together while I share one with Kylie. My mom thought it’d
be best for us to be together since we’ve always been the
most mature.
As you can imagine, my parents are pretty old and tired. Raising
five kids isn’t exactly easy, not that I would know, but
I’ve kept a close eye on my mother all these years, and
she’s done one hell of a job trying to bring us up as
bright, young adults. She’s got curly, grey hair, soft,
wrinkly skin, and a contagious smile, one that I could never
blame my father for falling in love with.
My father is slowly balding, his muscles are stiffening, and his
voice is loosing its fire. If you look at his old pictures,
you’ll notice the scary resemblance between him and Kylie.
Although Kylie has my mother’s delicate, small body, she
has my father’s eyes and nose, still delicate, but
extremely similar. My dad adores Kylie. She’s his only
girl, after all, and his youngest. He loves her to death and
would do anything to make her happy. In a way, Kylie’s a
bit spoiled, but like I said before, she’s very mature. My
dad has reached his boiling point with my brothers and me,
though. We can never do anything right in his eyes. We’ve
never been perfect enough for him, whether it be our grades,
integrity, leadership, or whatever else would make him proud.
It’s like we always seem to be lacking something, which
disappoints him.
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