I guess for a long time I have only seen her. We have been so close even though are age difference is five years. When she was born I took it upon myself to be her protector since my mother suffered from a depression she never quite pulled herself out of, after Bra was born. Of course, when this sickness began devouring my mother, it became harder for my father to communicate with her or even be around her. Instead of supporting her he turned away into himself. At five years old I didn't really understand what was going on, but reflecting on it I realize he was just neglectful.
So as I said I took it upon myself to protect Bra and take care of her. Even though my mother hired someone to watch her I ended up taking her from the help and doing whatever needed to be done. She was mine back then. As she grew up she hung on my every word. I tell her stories about starting school and growing up and she would always tell other people that I told her that so it had to be true.
I was ten when she started school. In the weeks leading up to it I changed my mind about telling her the truth. Her eyes waited for me to speak again about the nice teachers and the friendships from classmates, but the pictures started to pop into my head. She would run off with her friends and leave me behind. I would no longer have any influence on her or hold any real value to her. There were no friends in my corner but she would easily make them, unless I lied to her.
The fear grew in her eyes as I conjured up lie after lie about the mean children that wanted to steal from you, the evil teachers who waited for you to mess up. Our blue eyes met but she was too young to the smirk behind mine. She believed me and came home from her first day in tears because she had made school miserable for herself based on what I had said. Of course I was there to take her into my comforting arms and she fell in beautifully.
Neither mom nor dad were aware of the stories I was telling her. Mom was a zombie most of the time obsessively doing something that made no sense or didn't need to be done. She was slipping away and everyone just stood around to watch. Dad just didn't want to hear about anything. He was too wrapped up in whatever it was he was doing. Either he was gone or just locked up training for whatever. Bra would try to cry to him but he would only tell her to stop crying and go play, so she came exactly where she belonged, with me.
Once in a while she would almost adjust to school, but I would scare her with some other story to keep her away from people. It became difficult to come up with stories once in a while so I had to remind her of past ones to get by till the next time.
As time went I by I became increasingly aware that she was beautiful, even as a child. I watched her with great interest, trying to picture what she would look like at my age. I felt an ache in my gut to be close to her, but I knew I could not do what I wanted to. I let her sleep in my room, pulling her close to me to feel her little body and imaging what she would be like in the future. I thought we could be together when she was old enough, but she began to rebel against me, I guess that's where most of the story begins.
A/N: this is short cause I'm testing it out. Tell me if you like it and I will continue.