TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE!! (I was listening to How Could You Leave Us by NF when I wrote this. Sorry. [No I'm not.]) MENTIONS OF RAPE!! (I am sorry about that bit.)
It was raining, you were crying, and your sister was dying. No, not dying. Dead. Your 16 year old sister, the one you'd practically raised because mom left and dad was drunk. Dad must've been at work for once; the paramedics told you she was alone. They called the only number on her phone, which was yours. Said your best friend found her on her bedroom floor, an empty pill bottle in her hands.
Joaquin Torres, the one who found her, your best friend, stand in big brother to both of you. He was 4 years older than you, and as soon as he could get a job he did, using every penny to make sure you and Kitty had enough food and clothes that fit. If one of you outgrew something, he'd show up with more clothes. Dad never noticed. He never even tried to parent you. After mom left, he became a ghost that lived in the living room and drank beer all day. You were 8, Kitty was 3. Both of you were lucky he'd never abused you.
The bags of food in your arms hit the street, and you started running home as fast as you could. When you got inside, they were covering her body with a white sheet. Joaquin was on her bed, his eyes red as he stared at a piece of paper. "Kitty!" You half-yelled, half-sobbed. "I'm sorry sir, she's-"
"No!" You snarled, dropping beside her and throwing the sheet away. Her blue eyes were closed, her mouth set in a pained smile. The paramedics pulled you off her lifeless body, and you punched one in the nose. "Sir, please! We tried to help, but she was already gone when we got here! I'm sorry!"
Just like that, all the fight drained out of you. You dropped to the floor, crying. A few seconds later, Torres' arms were around your shoulders. He was crying too, but you wouldn't know the real reason until dad was home. The two of you sat like that for so long, when you gt up Kitty was halfway to the morgue and the front door was closing.
Your best friend clenched his fists and stood in front of you. He snarled at the figure in the doorway. Dad was home. "How dare you?" Joaquin whispered. Dad frowned. "How dare you do that to her? SHe was your daughter!" He yelled "Torres-" You started.
"You're the reason Kitty's dead! Stay away from Y/N, or you'll wish you died. Don't talk to him, don't look at him. And I swear to God, if you touch him..." It hit you then why he was so pissed, and it hit you like a ton of bricks. Your dad had been raping her. "Y/N, let's go pack your stuff. You live with me now, hermano."
Your father said nothing until you were leaving, and what he did say made the blood rush to your ears. "I miss her too." You felt no guilt when Torres pulled you away, or when you saw all the blood on your father's face. "You don't get to miss her," you said icily.
The funeral was just you and Joaquin. When you got back to his house, you sat on the front steps with the last thing Kitty had given you. The note. He gave you enough time to read it a couple of times, then joined you. "I should have noticed. I'm sorry, Y/N." You leaned your head on his shoulder. He slid his arm around your waist. Not in the romantic kind of way, but in the I'm here for you way. "It's not your fault. It's his."
You sat there until sundown.
Your father was arrested the next day.