“What the fuck do you mean they didn’t fucking find anything?” Seventeen year old Sandra Pelt yelled and sent her hair brush flying towards the vanity mirror in her bedroom, watching with angry eyes as it shattered into a million tiny pieces which she’d later make her mother clean up. Her mother was standing in the doorframe looking as shocking by her youngest daughter’s behavior as she had ever been. Since the disappearance of her eldest daughter, Debbie Pelt, Barbara Pelt couldn’t help but notice that her youngest daughter had taken a turn for the worst. Each time that passed without Debbie, Sandra became less and less like the perfect child that her parents had always built her up to be. “Sandra, what do you expect us to do? We hired the detectives just as you wanted. It’s not our fault they didn’t find anything. You know you’re sister better than anyone. She could’ve just run off somewhere the way she used to when she was younger. Remember that time she ended up in California and daddy had to go and get her because she’d gotten into a fight with her boyfriend?” Barbara Pelt felt as though reminiscing on Debbie’s troubled past would somehow calm Sandra down. It wasn’t happening though.
“Fuck you! Fuck dad! Fuck those jerks from Arkansas! We should’ve hired a local P.I. like I wanted to. You all fucked this up. This is all your fault!” Sandra growled at her mother, ready to attack her if she fired back with something stupid like, ‘we tried our best’. No they fucking didn’t! Barbara accepted that she’d been defeated and simply left Sandra’s room, not knowing what else to do to comfort Sandra. The young woman had become /that/ impossible. Sandra went over to the broken mirror and sat down in front of it, taking deep breaths in order to calm herself down. So far, nothing she’d tried was working. Debbie had been missing for over two months now and Sandra was losing her mind without her beloved sister. Something really bad had happened to Debbie, that much she knew. It wasn’t like all of the times before when Debbie would just leave without saying a word because unlike all of those times, she had yet to get in touch with her sister. Debbie and Sandra hadn’t gone a day without talking to each other in their lives. They were /that/ close.
Sandra looked down at the various make-up and jewelry that was scattered around her vanity along with the pieces of glass. She picked up her signature hoop earrings and put them on before standing up and walking out of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She ran downstairs and to the front door. “I’m leaving! Don’t ask where I’m going. I’ll be back later,” she said loud enough so that both of her parents could hear her. Sandra got in her car, turning on the ignition and driving off to a local Were bar that was owned by a friend of Debbie’s. Though Sandra was too young to drink, they still allowed her in and if she really wanted a drink, all she’d have to do was flash the bartender. That usually got her what she wanted.
She arrived at the club and parked her car before making her way inside, going directly to the bar. “Hey Sandra, didn’t expect to see you here this early, babe. Want a drink? You’ll only have to take your top off this time.” Sandra growled at the pervert bartender. “Fuck you…just leave me alone.” She sighed and watched as the bartender walked away. She began thinking about her sister, rotting somewhere. Though it brought tears to her eyes, it was something she would more than likely have to get used to thinking about. She wasn’t giving up hope but she wasn’t stupid enough to think Debbie was alive and well somewhere. “Well if it isn’t little Sandra fuckin’ Pelt!” She heard a familiar voice say from a few feet away. It was her cousin Luke whom she hadn’t seen in months. She instantly perked up and ran over to him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. He was one of the closest people to her and had grown up with her and Debbie. “Did you hear about my sister?” Fuck, she was crying again. She tried not to sob too loudly for fear that others would think she was some kind of crybaby or something. She just missed her sister.
“Yeah, I heard. Any news on Deb yet?” Luke rubbed his little cousin’s back as a way of trying to comfort her. Sandra just shook her head at first. “No, we haven’t heard anything. She hasn’t called me since that night that Alcide abjured her. You know that’s not like her at all. She would’ve fucking called me by now. The investigators that my parents hired didn’t find shit.” Luke’s eyes grew wide as he listened to all his cousin was telling him. “Alcide abjured her? Do you think he’s the reason she’s missin’?” Sandra shook her head, sick of being asked this question already. “No, it wasn’t him. He didn’t have the balls to do it. He was messing around with this bitch that Debbie was always telling me about named Sookie. Sookie? I mean, what the fuck kind of name is that? Anyway, I think she’s the one who knows what happened to my sister. She’s a vampire fucker.” Sandra chuckled and looked at her cousin who appeared to be in deep thought. “So she likes vampire, eh? I think I may know of someone who could help you out. He’s a vampire too, a pirate vampire. You’d probably have to pay him though.” Sandra nodded and waited as her cousin wrote down the vampire’s phone number. Money wasn’t an issue.
After catching up with her cousin for a bit, Sandra made her way back home. Her parents were gone which was a good thing since she wasn’t in the mood to deal with either of them. Her mother had cleaned up the broken glass just as Sandra has expected her to. Sandra closed her room door and decided to leave a voicemail for the vampire since it was only 2pm and vampires weren’t up that early. She dialed the number and waited as it rang until it went to voicemail. After the boring ‘leave a message at the tone’, it beeped and Sandra recorded her message. “Hell Mr. Twining, you don’t know me but I’m Luke Pelt’s cousin and he gave me your number. I have a job for you and I am willing to pay whatever you ask. Money isn’t an issue. I’d like to meet with you tonight around 7pm. I live in Jackson, Mississippi. My address is 8032 Eastover drive. It’s the largest house on the block so you won’t miss it.”
I carry your heart
I carry it in my heart
I am never without it
Anywhere i go you go, my dear;
And whatever is done
By only me is your doing, my darling
I fear no fate
For you are my fate, my sweet
I want no world
For, beautiful, you are my world, my true
And it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
And whatever a sun will always sing is you
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
Here is the root of the root
And the bud of the bud
And the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
Which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide
And this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart
I carry it in my heart
The night my sister died only exists in snippets in my mind now. Maybe that’s because I just don’t like thinking about it anymore. When she first went missing, I replayed our last phone conversation in my mind over and over again. The text messages she’d sent me that night are still locked away in my old cell phone along with pictures of her that I just can’t stand to look at anymore. It’s not that I don’t want to see her. I just don’t want to remember sometimes. I doubt that makes sense but it’s the only way I know how to explain this. Imagine having someone in your life from the day you were born, seeing and talking to them every single day and then one day, they just disappear. Losing my sister was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her smile or wish that I could hear her voice. I’d give anything, believe me.
After learning from that bitch, Sookie what had happened to my sister, I told anyone that would listen that had I known what would’ve happened that night, I would’ve been there with her. People would give me strange looks and ask stupid questions. One of the most frequently asked questions was, if you knew from day one how it would all end, would you have loved Debbie as much as you always had? If I could go back to the start, to our childhood and those happy times before things got fucked up, and change the way I felt about her, I wouldn’t. Had I known how it would all end, I would’ve loved her just the same. With that being said, don’t assume that I don’t have any regrets because believe me, I have my fair share.
For months after Debbie died, I went around blaming anyone and everyone that I could pin the blame on. I blamed Sookie for pulling the trigger. I blamed Alcide for not loving Debbie enough to save her but now I see that maybe he was right when he said that love alone can’t always save someone. My parents were also to blame in my mind. After all, they had never loved Debbie as much as they had loved me and they never did enough for her. The most heartbreaking and hurtful thing was when they allowed Sookie to walk away even after she’d confessed to murdering my sister. That alone told me that my parents hadn’t cared enough. I spent so much time blaming everyone else for not doing enough and though I’d never admit it out loud, I’m also to blame.
How exactly am I to blame, you ask? I didn’t do enough either. I could’ve loved her more, begged her to move back to Jackson the moment things got bad between her and Alcide, stopped her from going to Sookie’s that night. I could’ve done so much but I didn’t and it kills me every single day to know that if I had just tried harder, I’d still have my sister. I get that I couldn’t have protected her from everything and with her being the older sister, there was a lot she had to experience on her own before I even got a chance to but I could’ve saved her. If I had known what would’ve happened that night at Sookie’s house, I would’ve gotten in my car, driven like a bat out of hell to wherever Debbie was and I would’ve stopped her or better yet, I would‘ve killed Sookie for her. Hell, I would’ve even taken that bullet for her. Even now, if I could make a deal with God or whoever to switch places with her, I would in a heartbeat. Even for a chance to just see her or talk to her again, I’d give anything.
Debbie may have been a lot of different things to a lot of different people. To some, she was a problem. To others, she was someone who just couldn’t be saved no matter how much love they tried to give her but to me, she was my sister. Through good and bad, Debbie and I always had each other. No matter how much we fought sometimes and said things we didn’t mean, it was obvious that we never stopped loving each other. How do I live without her? The world is a dark place but Debbie was the spark that set my world on fire. Now all I have left are the memories of her and how simple our lives used to be. Those memories are like lightening bugs sealed in a mason jar, offering a small amount of both comfort and light that I need just to wake up every morning. Some days, I don’t even want to wake up but I do because I know that I have to and I remind myself every second of every minute of every hour that I’m doing this for her. Until the day I succeed at killing Sookie Stackhouse, Debbie and I just have to be apart and as hard as that is to accept, I have no choice but to accept it. In life, my sister was my inspiration, the greatest love I ever experienced and my reason for breathing. In death, she’s the only reason I even continue to exist or attempt to live anymore. It’s all for her but again, if there was a way to swap places with her, I would. We made a promise to each other as kids. We’d promised we’d die together but if they didn’t work out, the living sister would continue on until she just couldn’t bare living without the other. The day I found out that Debbie was gone, I couldn’t stand the thought of living without her but again, I’m doing it for her. We’ll see each other soon. I know that much and I try to tell myself that her pain is gone, she’s in a better place and all that shit but that’s not always reassuring.
“Sandra…Sandra…kill…Sookie.” Ugh, what a fucked up way to wake up though this was how I usually woke up. That voice, it was Debbie again and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get her stop. Though it was nice hearing her sometimes because I missed her so fucking bad, sometimes I just longed to be alone in my own mind once again. I was fearful about opening my eyes, afraid I’d see her standing there in front of me. Sometimes she’d be there and sometimes she wouldn’t. Again, though seeing her sometimes gave me motivation to even get out of bed, sometimes what I saw wasn’t how I remembered my sister. It was one thing to see her when she normal looking, wearing clean clothes and not wounded in any way. Sometimes I’d open my eyes and see her standing there in front of me, covered in blood with bits and pieces of her insides hanging out. Hell, sometimes I’d even see her heart through the cracks of her breastplate. I’d often even imagine her embracing me and bleeding all over me. She’d come to me covered in dirt a few times with maggots crawling in and out of various areas of her body. Even covered in blood and dirt with maggots eating away at her exposed insides, my sister was still the most beautiful person I’d ever seen. As I laid in bed, waiting for the voice to stop before opening my eyes, I wondered what it must be like to rot.
It’s easy not to give a fuck when the one person that was your only reason for ever giving a fuck isn’t around. It’s only been a little over a year but to be honest, I feel as though I’ve spent most of my life simply not caring what happens to myself or anyone else around me. My sister, Debbie was the one person that always held me together and kept me from falling apart and losing myself the way I have now without her. Loss is a strange and unpredictable thing. Sometimes you’re driven to commit horrible and malicious acts due to pain derived from a loss. Sometimes you spend all your time crying and feeling sorry for yourself, wishing you had been the one whose life had ended in such an inhumane way. Sometimes you just don’t give a fuck about anything and life becomes nothing but a cruel and meaningless joke. Now I really never spent much time actually paying attention in school because I found fucking pointless but one thing I actually do remember is reading Macbeth by William Shakespeare and I believe he said it best when he said, “Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player who struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
I’d be lying if I said that losing my sister didn’t make me feel all three things and to this day, I still feel them. It just goes to show you that not much can change over a year or so. I suppose I could start this by actually going into each one of these and telling you just how each one relates to me. You’ll have to have patience with me since I’m not good at expressing my emotions and being a little sappy fucker like that. It just ain’t me. My emotions aren’t things I go around talking about and it’s mostly because my emotions tend to scare those around me and truthfully, sometimes they scare me too.
Case 1: After a great loss, the individual that’s suffered the loss is driven to commit horrible and malicious acts-Well fuck, I’d lying if I said this wasn’t the one that I really am guilty of giving into all the time. I can’t help it though. I really can’t. See, here’s something I’ve never told anyone…sometimes I actually see Debbie and sometimes she’ll talk to me. She hates Sookie just as much as I do and she’s told me countless times that it’s up to me to avenge her death. Well obviously, I know that. It’s not like my asshole parents ever cared enough to do anything about it. They just allowed her killer to walk away as if she hadn’t taken away the most important person in my life. Fuck them and fuck Sookie Stackhouse. I killed my parents and got away with it. That car accident wasn’t an accident at all. Now if you were to ask me why I did it, I’d probably just laugh and say it was because I was bored. Boredom makes me do some terrible things. I once considered burning my entire house down while my parents were sleeping simply because I was bored but that’s another story. The main reason why I had them killed was because they were in my way. My father especially. He wouldn’t allow me to go after Sookie because he was a fucking weak and actually believed that the murder was in self defense. From there, I proceeded to beat the shit out of everyone that stood in my way. Someone once asked me what I’d do if I was ever in a fight that actually ending up losing. After given it some thought, I realized that I’d right to the death. The only way anyone would beat me is if they killed me. As for that bitch, Sookie…well I intend to kill her with my bare hands. It angers me that I’ve tried to kill her countless times and yet the little whore is still living. Someday, her luck will run out and when that happens, I’ll just laugh about it.
Case 2: After a great loss, the individual suffering the loss will become emotional and may cry fairly often-Here’s one that I’m probably not going to go into too much because as I said before, I’m not a sappy fucker. The last thing I want to do is sit here and talk about those weak moments where I just can’t help but cry. Fuck…but I’ll admit it. I do cry, though not as much as I used to. My sadness has been replaced with anger and that anger consumes me. When I first learned the truth of what had happened to my sister, I thought I’d never stop crying. I even let that bitch, Sookie see me crying which was one of the biggest fucking regrets of my life. She saw my weakness but then again, it should be obvious to everyone by now that Debbie was my only weakness. After that, I spent the first month or so crying my eyes out. I’d go sit in her old room and cry myself to sleep. Sometimes it helped just to be somewhere where I could feel her presence. It really helped that Barbara and Gordon hadn’t moved anything in her room and although I hated them, I was grateful for that. What upset me the most wasn’t that she was gone forever but that I should’ve been there that night. I should’ve been with my sister. I loved her so much that I would’ve gladly taken that bullet for her. I hate myself sometimes. That’s about all I’m going to say about that.
Case 3: After a great loss, the individual suffering the loss will stop caring about things that once mattered-As mentioned before, I don’t give a fuck. I’ve just stopped caring about everything that happens to me or around me. I didn’t give a shit when my parents died. I didn’t even cry at the funeral. When people would come up to me and express their sympathy for my situation, I’d just nod my head and something I’d even chuckle just a little. It’s all a joke, after all. When I ended up in jail for beating the shit out of my cousin, I didn’t care. I found the entire thing really funny. As for myself, I don’t really care what happens to me. I could die now and I honestly wouldn’t give a fuck. If I died, I’d get to be with my sister…wherever she fucking is. I miss her, if that isn’t obvious enough. I live in a constant state of indifference, not really giving much thought about what’ll happen next.
I could go on forever, telling you just how much I hate what my life has become and talking about how much of a fucking mess I am but I doubt you’d want to hear anymore than what I’ve already told you so for now, I won’t say anymore.
Until next time,
Sandra Jayne Pelt
This is the letter I never wrote to you…until it was too late, that is. Sometimes I wonder if you saw me the way I saw you. You were my everything, dear sister, the one thing that mattered to me. Truthfully, I don’t think anyone ever really saw who you truly were and although I’m sure some would disagree, I think I knew you better than anyone in this entire world and you knew me, too. From the start, we were inseparable. The five year age difference never got in the way of how close we were all our lives. You were my heart, the only thing that ever kept me going. Tell me, how the fuck do I live without my heart?
Even in your darkest hour, I saw your light. When everyone in your life walked out on you the moment it got bad, I stuck around because I saw the best in you no matter how bad things got. When those fuckers we called “parents” criticized you, I stuck up for you. When people called you a whore, I punched their lights out. When our fucking parents didn’t do shit after that bitch confessed to killing you right in front of us, I swore I’d have them killed. Even when dad threatened me, I knew I’d never give up. When that fucking bitch killed you and I learned the truth, I swore I’d fucking kill her. That’s my promise to you. I’ll never stop until one of us is dead. I owe you that much for not being there the night it happened…
Everything ends. You’re gone. Our fucking parents are gone and although I’m not upset about that, I’ve lost my mind since then. Sometimes I think I hear your voice. Other times I’ll see you walking around in your room but the moment I try to come near you, you fucking leave me again. I’m broken and you’re not around to fix me, dear sister. What the fuck do I do without you? I’m lost and you’re not around to save me the way you used to when we were little. Sometimes I wish I could hate you. I think that if I did, this would be easier. I can’t bring myself to hate you though. How the fuck could I hate the only person I ever loved?
Here I am, dear sister. You left me but I’m still here, dammit. Every fucking night before I shut my eyes, I whisper, “take me with you”, hoping one night you’ll hear me. Do you hear me? Do you see the mess I’ve became and the hate in my heart? Do you know how many nights I’ve spent crying over you or how many hours I’ve spent thinking of ways to avenge you? That fucking bitch…I swear, I’ll fucking kill her. I’ll burn her alive. No, that would be going easy on her. I want her to die a slow and painful death. I want you to be her last thought and I want to be the last thing she sees before she leaves this world. Do you see what I’ve become? Do you see my light still or has it been eclipsed by the darkness that’s stemmed from the hatred, the anger and the sadness of losing you. I guess I’ll never know…but I saw your light once and I hope you see mine, somehow.
Wherever you are, don’t forget me.
Sandra Jayne Pelt