As my train of thought approached the Station of Despair, I alighted and decided to look deep into my memories, looking for something which was old and dusty, the memory I tried so hard to keep - the fragile memories of my sister's sane times.
When I was younger, I was very playful and like all children, I played stupid pranks and games which were childishly invented. Nevertheless, estranged in disorders known as Attention Deficit hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) and dyslexia, I pushed and stretched my family members' patience, like a ball of dough rolled thin into a flat piece of dough. Everyday was torment to me, eating pills which tasted like bitter gourd and sitting down to study. The words continuously swarmed about in my head, like restless bees looking for honey. Still, I was only seven at that time and had no control over myself. I jumped about and created a lot of chaos which even tornadoes would be ashamed of during one of my fits. My sister was already nineteen at that time and had a boyfriend. Even though she never brought her boyfriend home, I had always seen them holding hands with smiles radiating like the sun, but our lives changed as fast as we could blink our eyes. Two weeks before before my sister turned twenty-one, he vanished.
All of my sister's birthday plan had to be put on hold. She mobilized everybody to go on a manhunt with her. Living only in a small town, everybody knew everybody else, but even with a population of 500 residents, nobody knew where he went. My sister was so caught up with his disappearance that she did not even remember her own birthday. We urged her to sleep and eat something but she refused and continued to keep vigil next to her phone. We kept looking but after a month or so, we gave up hope. We had already tried everything else, from calling his parents, to the police. We put up posters for any information on home, but none of out numbers were being called. Being hyperactive, my parents improvised a new way to keep me from destroying the town while going on their rounds. They tied a rope to my hand and walked around to run their own errands.
After giving up the frantic search, my sister become depressed. She confessed that she was going to get married with her boyfriend after she turned twenty-one but since his disappearance, she gave up hope. For a nine-year old, love was nothing of importance but apparently to a twenty-one year old, it mattered a lot. My family and I spent an enormous amount of effort trying to let her forget about him but our efforts were in vain.
About half a year later, we received a call from the police saying they found a badly hurt male body near the jungle. It seemed that the body was dragged there after a possible car crash. My sister, decided to look at the corpse to put her mind at ease. It was the wrong choice.
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