Chapter 3My Older Sister

After a whole day on the bus, a few more hours on a connecting local line, and then catching a ride with a guy on a beat-up motorcycle, I finally made it back home just as evening fell.

Nights in the countryside aren't filled with colorful lights or busy streets. Just endless darkness and the sound of crickets chirping all around.

Using the faint starlight, I found Sarah in the field near the edge of town. Her forehead was bleeding heavily, and her body was covered in countless cuts and bruises.

The night wind blew, and she curled up tighter, moaning softly, "Hurts… Grandma… it hurts so bad."

Seeing her trying to cry but unable to, just lying there barely conscious, I scrambled towards her like a madwoman, holding her thin body close, trying to wipe away the blood.

In this remote, backwards part of the country, old, toxic ideas were still strong. Having a son meant carrying on the family name; daughters were just expenses, looked down on from the day they were born.

In this kind of environment, where boys were prized above all else, Sarah, being intellectually disabled from her illness, was even more of an outcast, a constant target.

Grandma Ruth used her to get money, and even if my parents knew, they turned a blind eye.

Remembering what happened last time, I quickly pulled out the first-aid supplies I’d brought and started trying to stop the bleeding.

Sarah felt the cool antiseptic and slowly opened her eyes.

"Ashley?"

She struggled to lift her heavy eyelids, trying to figure out if I was real or just a dream.

I squeezed her hand. "Sarah, it's me, Ashley."

A weak smile touched her lips. She tried to reach into her pocket, but her hand fell back several times, lacking strength. Finally, she managed to pull out the hidden bundle of cash.

"Ashley… this is my garden money… your birthday present… Take it for school… don't let Grandma… find it…"

She couldn't catch her breath and coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Tears were streaming down my face by now. I quickly tucked the hundred dollars into my bag. "Okay, Sarah. I'll keep it safe."

She tried to say something else, but she passed out.

I had to get her to a hospital immediately, or she wouldn't make it.

"Open the door!"

I carried Sarah back to the house on my back and started pounding on the door. After what felt like forever, Grandma Ruth opened it, muttering curses.

"Crazy girl, what're you screaming about in the middle of the night!"

She pushed the door open, saw Sarah unconscious on my back, and froze for a second. Then she put on a fake concerned voice, "What happened to Sarah?"

I didn't have time to argue. I needed to get Sarah help fast, and that meant getting Grandma to find someone in town with a truck.

In this town, most of the young people had left for work elsewhere, and the kids had no say. Without Grandma Ruth asking, nobody would help me.

But when I asked her, she yelled, "It's the middle of the night! That stupid girl ran off dressed like that! It'll cause a scandal! Who am I supposed to ask for help now!"

I shot back furiously, "You know exactly why she was out here in the middle of the night, don't you?"

Grandma yelled even louder, "She's got legs, hasn't she? How should I know where she goes!"

Everything I'd been through growing up taught me one thing: with unreasonable old people like Grandma, you had to get tough to make them listen.

I spat out a harsh threat: "If you don't find someone to help right now, and Sarah dies, I swear I'll take Kevin down with me. I'll make sure the Miller family name ends right here!"

Kevin was her Achilles' heel. She started screaming insults at me, but she reluctantly went off to find help.

While she was gone, I quickly changed Sarah into a clean set of clothes. I wouldn't give the villagers any chance to mock her.

Sarah was finally taken to the hospital.

My parents also flew back overnight.

Not because they were worried about Sarah, though. They came back to make sure no more money was "wasted."

Faced with the medical bills, Grandma Ruth was the first to collapse onto the hospital floor, wailing, "I'm just an old woman! I raised that simple girl, where would I get money? I ate scraps so she could have food! I never mistreated her!"

"It's just a few cuts, what does she need a hospital for? Slap some bandages on her, stop the bleeding. If she lives, she lives. It's fate. Treating her is just throwing money away."

My mom pulled out her ledger. "It cost so much to raise her! She still owes me ten thousand dollars! Where would we get money to treat her? No money!"

I was furious. "You had us, but you never took responsibility! You don't deserve to be called parents!"

Mom's eyes bulged. "Like anyone wants you either!"

My dad impatiently asked if I wanted them to just bring Sarah home. He'd pay for the gas, tops. If I didn't listen, they were washing their hands of it. Her life or death had nothing to do with them anymore.

I stood firm. "I'll take care of Sarah from now on. Even if I have to sell my blood or work myself to the bone, I'll get her the treatment she needs."

"Fine, you take care of her then. Don't come crawling back to us."

"Even if we die, Sarah and I won't die in your house!"

My dad decisively took my mom and grandma and left. As they turned away, I heard Grandma Ruth talking about buying Kevin new clothes and shoes.

They had money for plane tickets, but not for Sarah's hospital bills.

The absolute heartlessness of my own parents chilled me to the bone.

Thankfully, luck was on our side. Sarah's injuries were mostly external, severe blood loss, but no internal damage.

The money I'd saved from working, plus the hundred dollars Sarah had saved from her garden, was enough to cover the initial medical bills. After paying, there was even a little left over for basic needs.

With proper treatment, Sarah slowly started getting better. The knot of tension inside me finally began to loosen.

The day she was discharged, Sarah hid behind me, clutching my hand and crying. "Grandma hit me and yelled at me… she didn't give me enough food… she took me to that man's house and he hit me… I don't want to go back and see Grandma."

"Ashley, I'll be good. I'll work hard and earn my own money… Can we not go back to Grandma's house? Please?"

Even with the mind of an eight-year-old, Sarah understood everything.

Tears streamed down my face as I hugged her tight, trying to give her a sense of safety. "We'll work hard, support ourselves, and never go back there again."

That memory would haunt her for the rest of her life.

For the rest of mine, I would do everything in my power to protect Sarah and make sure she knew only joy.