There's Only Room for One

Laura Liu

Ms. Tompkins

World Literature Honors 1

April 24, 2015

There’s Only Room for One

The words, MISSING BOY’S BODY FOUND, splatter across the front page of the local newspaper. Bridget’s stony gray eyes scan the article about their missing neighbor, James Harrington, who never came home after leaving for school last Tuesday morning. She gives a carefree shrug and lifts her eyes from the pages to search her sister’s face. Rebecca’s eyebrows furrow, forming creases on her forehead, a flaw on her otherwise disgustingly flawless oval face framed by luxurious amber waves. A few seconds pass before Rebecca finally recovers from her shock. She meets her little sister’s enigmatic eyes and reaches over to caress her hand.

“We know no more than anyone else does. It never happened. You got that?” Rebecca instructs, expecting obedience. Bridget balls up her fist and tugs on the hems of her faded shirt. It is a hand-me-down from Rebecca that has a hole on the left shoulder. She had asked her father for a back to school shopping trip so she could finally wear something that hadn’t been her sister’s. But he refused, on the pretext that he needed to save money for Rebecca’s college tuition fee. As if she’d ever get into college, she had thought. She hates the shirt almost as much as she hates the way Rebecca speaks to her condescendingly.

That night, they had stared down at the mangled body.

Rebecca flung her hand over her mouth to muffle a long, blood curdling scream. Her heartbeat hammered in chest, sending trembles through her body. Her sister’s fragile frame seemed oddly relaxed under her tight grasp. Moments later, the repulsive odor hit them. Invaded their nostrils. Brought them back to their senses. Shock gradually crept away, triggering fear to settle in. Having not quite recovered from the horror, she heard Bridget’s blunt and even voice.

“Let’s bury it.”

“Are..are you insane?” Rebecca’s cracking voice managed.

“It is in our backyard! People are going to think we did this!”

Rebecca sighed, relenting. Bridget’s eyes glimmered in the moonlight. For once, she called the shots.

“They’re going to figure it out, you know?” Bridget stares right back into her sister’s pleading eyes.

“Stop it! Just stop saying that, Bridget!” Rebecca screams, her voice thick with fear.

“They’re coming over to interrogate us about the homicide in five minutes,” Bridget states nonchalantly.

Rebecca shuts her eyes. She takes a deep breath in, and out. With a sigh, she commands in a calmer tone, “Listen to me, don’t say a word when they come. Let me do all the talking.”

Bridget gives her sister a slightly cryptic smirk. Rebecca continues to stare at Bridget until, finally, Bridget gives in with a small, reluctant nod, her eyes trail back to the untouched newspaper sitting neatly on the coffee table.

Hot, angry lava boils in Rebecca’s chest, erupting, spilling out her mouth. “Bridget! Why are you so indifferent about this? We could end up rotting in jail all because of your stupid idea!”

Anger is contagious.

“Rot in jail? Speak for yourself!” Bridget spits back. For a second, she almost wishes that it doesn’t have to be this way. Bridget liked it better when they were younger. Before Rebecca treated her as if she were inferior. Before Rebecca had become a “cool kid”. Before Rebecca complicated things. Because they genuinely had been best friends. Because their relationship had been so simple. Because she had been Daddy’s favorite, not Rebecca.

Baffled by her sister’s ferocious, abrupt words, Rebecca blinks in shock, eyes narrowing, trying to put together the pieces.

Too late.

The harmonic chime of the doorbell intrudes, as if mocking her destined fate. Bridget glides across the creaking wooden living room floor, eager with anticipation. Her delicate fingers wrap around the cold metal knob, but right before she turns it, her head swings around to give Rebecca a coy smile.

Rebecca watches in panic as police officers file into the house. “Rebecca Sowards, you are under arrest for the murder of James Harrington. Hands behind your back.” She stands motionless, speechless‒panic plugs her mouth, her words bubbling inside, trying to escape. A warm tear of shock slithers down her cheek, meeting the cold metal cuffs, sending a chill through her entire body.

Her eyes widen in realization. Her shoulders jerk backward violently, causing the police officer to tighten her grip. A timid, breathless gasp escapes her lips as they form a perfect “o”. Her eyes twitch with anger as she thrusts her body with all her might towards her sister.

“I trusted you! How could you do this to me? What did I ever do to you to make you hate me this much? Tell me! Why…,” She crumbles into a pile of tears.

Bridget looks apologetically at the police officers, her face fills with concern. “Please forgive my dear sister, she’s been suffering from antisocial personality disorder, lost in her own little world. But...we never knew it could ever end this way.” She lets out a soft, feigned whimper, pity piercing her voice.

The hot, angry lava explodes, shattering Rebecca’s heart, soul, body into jagged pieces. How could she do this? How could she betray me? We’re sisters! Too angry to express with words, she lets out a violent howl, lunging for her sister’s hair. Bridget gives a frightened shriek as she dives into the corner. “See? She’s having another one of her episodes!”

“Calm down, sweetie. It’s going to be okay.” The officer looks at Rebecca sympathetically. The patronizing words shatter the last piece of hope she has.

As she is dragged out the door, she hears her sister’s menacing whisper, “I’ll tell Daddy you said goodbye.”