I’ve got a sister,well… I HAD a sister. Normally, when a family loses a loved one, their memory is kept alive in the form of filling the house with pictures of said person, talking about them, visiting their grave at the graveyard… But in my case, if the people close to me hadn’t told me about my sister, I would’ve never known she existed. You see, if you go to my house, you’ll find absolutely no trace of her existence, no pictures, no clothes, no toys, no nothing, anywhere. Not even in my room, wich is odd if you consider it used to be hers. All I really knew about her is that she died two years before I was born and that she apparently looked a lot like me (or I guess I’m the one who looks like her…) Aside from that, she was a complete stranger to me, I didn’t even know her name. When I was little, I asked my parents about her a few times, but whenever that happened, they’d simply said”She’s gone, and that makes us sad, but now we have you, sweetie, and that makes us less sad. You’re… perfect, Jessica.” then they’d give me a kiss, leave and act as if that conversation had never happened, so I soon stopped trying and moved on.