Chapter Eighteen:

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I was sitting in my room, cross legged as I always was when I had a nightmare. They always started out the same way: me in my room, sitting Indian-style, my hands on my knees, gripping my knees like I was waiting for something to happen. Something usually did.

As always, Drew was sitting across from me, spitting image me, but with the exception of brown hair instead of blue. She was eighteen, the age she was when she died. Death did not age the deceased; they stayed the age they died, the age they were frozen in.

She was seated like me, legs crossed, hands on knees, shoulders tense. Except, instead of adopting my apprehensive grimace, she was grinning, grinning like she was completely mad, like she was in on a joke that I wasn't.

"Poor baby sister," she said. Her voice was rough and low, like a chainsaw. My skin bristled at her voice. Drew chuckled; her chuckle was edged with razors.

I wince and it just causes her to laugh harder. After a moment, she stood up and planted her hands on her hips, pacing her way around me. She was giving disgusted noises; she reached out a hand and tugged on a strand of my hair.

"Same as always, I see. You aren't one for mixing it up, huh, baby sister?" she said, coming to stand in front of me once more.

I sigh.

"Drew, can we please not tonight? I'm not in the mood to deal with you," I told her, which had become my main statement to her these days. She always acted the same.

"Excuse me? It's not my fault you're still hung up on him. It's not my fault that you can't move on and stop being the pussy you are. Just grow a fucking vagina and forget him. You knew it wasn't going to work anyway. You set yourself up for disaster," Drew retorted, glaring down at me like she always did.

This is just a dream, I thought to myself.

The thought didn't help.

"For fucks sake, Penny, just forget him. He obviously didn't love you like you thought he did. Shit, grow up. He's better with Finny anyway. He was wasting away with you." Drew tosses her brown hair and stalks over to the other side of my room where she leans against the wall and crosses her arms.

I frown deeply, my fingers turning from a gentle pressure to a stinging bite. Anger welled in me, as it always did. I was finally tired of having her treat me this way; she always did. Ever since I was little, she's always acted like a dick, like she was better, like I was the mistake. NEWS FLASH!! At least I was still alive.

Drew notices my change in attitude and chuckles again.

She shakes her head and pushes away from the wall. She makes her way over to me, where she squats in front of me and takes my chin in her hand, pinching my chin between her pointer finger and thumb. She turns my head back and forth.

"Huh," she drawled, her tone skeptical, "I thought I saw rebellion in your eyes, little sister. I guess it was a trick of the light." She shrugs and sneers, whips my head to the side, her hand leaving my chin. She stood up and turned around, making her way over to the window.

I was suddenly standing, making my way closer to her, one, two steps closer. I broke out into a run, my hands tightened into fists. The distance between us wasn't but maybe four feet, but being in a dream, the distance seemed to lengthen with each step. When I finally made it to her, I jumped, launching myself at her, tackling her out the window, wrapping my arms around her middle.

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