mythomania

prolougue - the dancing queen

Seventeen.

I am officially older than the age my sister was when she died.

Seventeen.

The age of the dancing queen, a time where every girl should feel the full freedom her youth has to offer, without the burdens of adulthood. There's something amazing about being seventeen, I believe.

I think about it often.

How Avena wouldn't be able to reach such a beautiful age, not even if she was still with us because she - along with my two eldest brothers - were forced to grow up and care for me and Rafael. I know I lacked many things in my childhood, but for the first two years after my parents death, I didn't feel like I was missing something huge. Avena was there with me.

Of course I missed my mum, which child wouldn't? But I was lucky enough to have my older sister, although, she was only fourteen herself when tragedy struck. She was there for every breakdown, to wipe away every tear that fell from my eyes, and to whisper soothing words into my ears. She was my everything.

I looked forward every weekend, because it was on those days we would go spend hours on end, painting each other's nails, talking about everything and nothing all at the same time. But now that I think about it, it was always me who did the talking, she would sit and listen, as I ramble on about the tedious week I've had, every argument that I fought with Rafael, every disagreement I had with Rosario, and what new thing Alonzo brought me after he finished school.

She was the most selfless person I knew - not that I know many people.

Although she was my favourite, I always knew who she was the closest to, Alonzo, my second oldest brother. Alonzo was many things, and everything along the lines of kindhearted, strong willed and loving. His affection sometimes can be overbearing, but it was something I secretly liked, his random hugs, his gift giving, and his sweet words. I don't think he could hurt a fly if I was honest.

But maybe that's why they got along so well, they were so alike in many ways. Out of the five of us, those two were the ones who had connections to everyone on an emotional level, they were always slow to anger and fast to understanding. And they were each others best friend and emotional support. I suppose that's why when she died, he felt as though he didn't know her well enough, he didn't understand her pain enough for her to want to stay.

He felt like he wasn't enough.

He became ten times more overbearing, but I understand. If I were him, I'd want to hold tightly to the last person who felt like my sister. The last person who shared a small semblance to the only person who every understood me.

Unlike Alonzo, Rafael, the youngest of my three brothers, was the last person I would go to for advice. He wasn't younger than me, in fact he is three years older, but from he way we argue you would think we were closer in age. Rafael is forever moody, and so, so, so irritating. He's always picking fights, making me feel bad and doing everything a normal brother would do to their youngest sibling. Although, that doesn't mean I like him any less.

Maybe a little.

But, he was the only brother who was ever real with me, although blunt, he spoke his truth. Avena was the only person, along with Rosario, who could keep him in his place. She was strong against him, and maybe that's also part of the reason why I loved her so much. She would keep him under control, and he would listen to her, perhaps it was because, he too looked up to her in a way.

Ever since her departure, he's become even more despicable towards me, making sure every interaction I had with him had the onslaught of some sort of agony in its wake - it didn't matter if it was physical or emotional.

I would try to get him back too, giving him the odd hit here and there, but they never had the same effect on him as it did me.

I was also scared of the consequences I'd face from my oldest brother - Rosario Avante. He's well into his twenties, but his youth was snatched from him rather quickly. As the oldest, he was dumped with the responsibility of looking after me and Rafael, both before and after our parents had died. Maybe that's why he's always speaking like there's a stick up his arse.

He wasn't always like this, in fact I think aside from Avena, he was the sibling I was closest to. Alonzo was amazing, he was always spoiling me, but Rosario knew how to make me laugh, how to take care of me and he taught me everything I knew. I was always hanging on his leg, or sat in his room whilst he worked, or waiting for him to come back from the gym with a bottle of water at hand.

But that all changed the year I was 10, he became the opposite entirely, and all traces of the brother we knew was erased. He became a leader, not only for us but the business my father owned, and I think it was these overbearing responsibilities that sucked the life out of him.

Him and Avena were not at all close, they often argued, and disputed. She didn't like that he was controlling every aspect of her life, and he didn't like that she did whatever she could to disobey him. Although, I do understand now, why he had so many rules in place, but poor Avena felt trapped and suffocated within these four walls.

Maybe that was what drove her off the cliff.

I do find myself thinking often about the reasons she had to take her own life. But none of them were ever enough to justify her actions, and the more I try to find motive, the more I become agitated.

A part of me does despise her for being so selfish, and leaving us without any second thoughts. She knew better than I did what it felt like to loose family, but she still left us with the pain she was dragged under by.

But how can I blame the person who found an escape in her death? How do I blame someone, who thought that their reality was worse than the unknown of the afterlife? How do I blame someone for listening to the venom their mind spits, when it was the only ear that listened well enough to her struggles?

Perhaps I am the selfish one. I blame my sister, even though the thought of death to me is so scary. I wonder how alone she felt that the loneliness of death offered more comfort to her than the arms of life.