Sometimes when I stare into Anna’s eyes, I just wish.

Wish my parents actually cared about someone other than Toby.

I loved Toby once too-of course I did. He was my brother.

He was six when he died. I was nine. Anna was a newborn then.

Sometimes I can see my parents criticizing her. As if she’s supposed to replace Toby. Maybe because she’s a year older than Toby was when he died.

I can hear them saying ‘She’s thin. Toby was plump. He never stopped eating sweets’ or ‘she’s always drawing or reading. Not like Toby who never stopped running around’

Sometimes I want to scream, “Toby died seven years ago! Start caring about your other children! Anna and I!”

But I could survive without the love. Yes, at times it hurt deeper than I’d like to admit, but just seeing Anna made anger so deep simmer in my blood.

She was so vulnerable. She needed love so much. But it was never delivered.

————

I’m helping Anna with her homework. She doesn’t need much help—she’s so smart.

“Who is your role model?” I read aloud.

I remember having these. I used to always say Mom, but not recently. Sometimes I feel Anna, who’s nine years younger than me, is who I truly want to be.

“You,” she says, without much thought.

On the page, she writes MY ELDER SISTER, KATE.

“You need to use lowercase letters,”

“Uh, no!”

Then, Mom comes in.

—————

I won’t go into too many details but here’s what happened. There was a screaming fight. I joined Anna’s side. Dad joined Mom’s.

Hurtful words were said. The most hurtful; Mom saying ‘Why aren’t you Toby?! Everything would be better then!’

When that was over, Anna cried into me. Into my shoulder, she said so soft, I don’t think she knew I heard. “When will they love me?”

For a moment, I froze.

Then anger tore through me. Burning and raging.

—————

As soon as Anna went to sleep, I stormed out into my parents room.

I knocked. Polite, gentle, but firm.

Dad opened it. I crossed my arms across my chest.

Mom and Dad usually sleep at 11. It was now 7:30 so I knew I wasn’t interrupting anything.

As soon as I entered, I said. “Why do you hate Anna?”

I was trying my hardest to be calm and calculated. If it seemed like I was crying, this’d never work.

“Kate!” Mom gasped.

“We don’t hate…” Dad starts.

“Could’ve fooled me. Just because she’s not Toby? She’s your daughter too. We both are,”

“Kaitlynn Rose Marx!” Dad exclaims, voice rising.

“Anna is not Toby, sure. But she’s amazing. Better than you two, better than me,”

Mom starts crying.

“If we both died like Toby, I bet you wouldn’t even care!”

I left, hoping there would be some change.

—————

And there was, as that night, in the middle of the night when she thought I was still asleep, Mom kissed Anna on her forehead.