I’ve always loved my sister the way she was. But one day she turned into someone else, as if someone took over her body and kept her locked in. I wasn’t sure what happened, I was clueless about everything first. My family spiraled into a dark pit and my mother cried a lot.
At evening dinners, it was always only us. No guests, ever. It wasn’t the time for that yet. My sister needed support from my mom, my dad, from me. A lot of days were scary and when I looked over the table she hid behind her long black hair. I didn’t mind then, I guess I understood in a way. Silence filled the room, all evenings long. Until mom made a remark and my sister put down her knife and fork and I could see the anger in her eyes and then she broke. Discussions started, even fights sometimes and everybody screamed around me. I looked at my plate again, as I did most evenings.
I squeezed my cutlery when they raised their voices more and more and then it was over again.
Tears rolled down my sister’s face and I wished that I could help her but I knew I couldn’t.
‘Clear the table,’ mom said. And I did. I took away our plates and my sister's untouched food and I didn’t say a word.
Those evenings ended in my room again, it usually did. I didn’t sleep, or talk. I just sat. For hours. Is she ever going to get better? I asked myself over and over again. I always wondered and I never knew the answer, nobody did. Not even my sister.
Once, i was in the bathroom and she got out of the shower and I saw it. Ribs. A lot of ribs. She wrapped herself in a towel and left. But that image stayed. I felt sad again.
She scared me at times, not herself, but her body. The thin figure that moved around her house didn't feel like her. She looked fragile, and she would have nobody touch her. I hugged her once, she moved away, but it was good to surround her with some of my love. She didn't think she was lovable, but she was. Hugs are important, my mom always said. It shows the love you have for someone.
I’ve always had a good connection with my sister, it was us against the world sometimes. That didn’t fade away because of her sickness, but it changed. Sudden outbursts of her anger scared me, but I told myself it wasn’t her. It wasn’t my sister who did this, it was the monster inside of her. The monster had power over her, he controlled what she did and what she ate.
I never saw her that way. It was still her, it’ll always be her.
Some days I felt angry at her for being like this, some days it all was too much and some days the smile on her face because she achieved something small, yet powerful made me feel warm and proud.
To this day she never gave up her battle against anorexia and we all stood by her, even when times were incredibly hard. I'm happy now she's getting better and living her life the way she should. She's a hero for me, someone I look up to. The monster is almost gone and I'm thankful. He almost took my sister one time, I've never been so scared as I was then. But we were stronger, my sister was stronger.
I couldn't live without her in my life.