Loving Rachel

Note: This story is dedicated to my mom and my Aunt Michelle, who inspired me to write this.

R.I.P. Michelle

This story is somewhat based on a true story, and all reviews are very apprieciated! Thanks! - Selina(:

Prologue:

It's summer. It's now when I usually think about Rachel the most. Summer was her favorite time, and I can almost still see her out in the garden, picking wild flowers that grew in the

sides of the white picket fence our mother used to keep the dogs out. I can still see her racing down to our favorite spot and climbing up to our secret clubhouse that was hidden in the

branches of our father's thick fruitless mulberry trees. I can still see her sitting on our roof, painting the sunset in different, bright colors. I can see her running across the field barefoot,

riding her horse Violet, doing cartwheels down the hill, and taking my hand and telling me to run with her. I can remember all of these things she used to do, and I miss all these things

she used to do. Rachel was my sister, and she was the most loving and caring person in the world. When you spent time with Rachel, you would never want it to end. But it did. Because

now, Rachel is dead.

Chapter one - Going Under

I woke up to the sound of my mom digging through my drawers. "Do you have my black socks?" She kept on saying as she rummaged quickly. "No I don't. Get out of here." I pulled the

covers over my head. "You have to get out of bed whether you like it or not," She said as she stood up and fixed her messy brown hair. "You have to, Avery."

"No. Get the fuck out of my room." I say, closing my eyes and trying to go back to sleep.

"Avery…" My mother's voice cracks. "She would want you to be there." Her voice cracks at the end once more. I wish I would go deaf so I'll never half to hear it crack again.

"Leave me alone," My stomach rolls a threatening roll. I feel like I'm about to puke again. "Go!" I lamely scream. It's a pathetic attempt to make her leave.

My mother releases a sob and runs out without the black socks for the funeral. The funeral I'm refusing to go to. The funeral for my sister, Rachel.

My father tries now. His face is grave, looking like a ghost. He sits on my bed, pleading with me. I threaten to throw up on him. He tries to stroke my head, saying we are all going through

this. I slap his hand away and began to cry again. I watch him sit there, not knowing what to do. I watch him give up after a moment of silence and walk out the door. I watch him lose his

mind, one step at a time.

I fall asleep again. I wake up disoriented, and look around my room. For a split second I think that I was dreaming; only dreaming that Rachel was gone. Everything is alright; Rachel will

be back from her hike soon. I look around my room and then at my bedside table. I see Rachel's bracelet. My mind crashes back to reality. I am not dreaming. This is real, Rachel is really

gone. I pick up the bracelet and gently hold it between my fingers. It's a friendship bracelet, tied together with red and white string, held together by love. Rachel and I made matching

ones at camp when i was six and she was seven. Hers was red and white and mine was blue and white. I had lost mine a few months after camp, but Rachel still had hers on, claiming

that we were connected by them. I argued back that if I had lost mine, we weren't connected, but Rachel persisted. "I'll never take it off." She promised. And she didn't; not for 9 years.

The bracelet became old and worn from spending every moment with her, and she was constantly repairing it in some way. A lose thread would be re-tied; a fading color would be

replaced by drawing on it with a sharpie. I never found my bracelet, but it didn't matter. Rachel had hers, and we were connected. That's all that was important.

I drift back to dream land, thinking of the last night I saw Rachel alive. We had just finished eating dinner, and we went to go sit on the roof to watch the sunset. She had looked so

beautiful then, so confident yet relaxed. Rachel's only a year older than me, and we shared and did everything together. I asked her about if she was excited for turning sixteen. She

nodded, grinning. I told her about how I was scared about high school. She squeezed my hand and had said, "Don't worry Avery. I'll be here every day to help you." I had smiled at that,

believing her. We talked until our dad told us to come down, and then we talked in her room until we fell asleep. The next day, she got up early to take a hike in the mountains behind

our house and take some pictures with her camera. She kissed my cheek good morning and said she'd be back before afternoon. I had said okay and watched her walk out the door and

towards the path that led up to the mountains. She never came back.