I woke late the next morning, to find Johnny on his bed; face in his hands, his demeanor told me he was upset. I got up and looked at him. "What wrong Johnny?" My question seemed to startle him, and when he looked up at me, his eyes red with tears, I wiped one of the tears away and hugged him, not sure what was wrong. "It be okay Johnny." He hugged me tightly and cried a little harder, shuddering slightly, it got me worried when I hugged him back as tightly as I could with my little arms. He shook his head when he calmed down a bit.

"Annie, I have something important to tell you." His sad eyes frightened me, what could possibly be so bad? I mean, it was my big brother Johnny! Nothing was wrong with him. He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes.

"Annabel, dad passed away last night."

I blinked, smiling slightly, thinking it was a joke, but the look on his face soon tore it away. For as little as I was, I'm sure most would have expected me not to know what that meant, but I knew, and I had no tears to shed for the man. I wasn't sure what to feel, I didn't feel like something was missing, or that life would be nothing without that man. I just didn't feel. For some reason, I looked at the calendar and saw that it was August 7th. There was a sinking feeling in my stomach, and I was filled dread. I wasn't sure why then, but I knew from that moment on, I would grow to hate the number seven.

I started school in September that year, kindergarten. I knew I was different from everyone else. For starters, I looked the dirtiest, my dull brown hair always in knots and my clothes always way too big for m, but I didn't care. I was the smartest in the class, and even though I was a little slower, I started getting faster. Then I would have never realized that the fact that I was never sure of myself made me seem slow, at the time, I just thought that made me dumb.

For the most part, I was a pretty happy child, content with the fact that I was smarter, it made me feel like I had actually accomplished something monumental. I was alone on the playgrounds, lost in my own thoughts as I made sand castles or drew pictures into the dirt. Probably set off by my actual want to be and play alone, other children didn't come up to me or ask me for help too often, Sometimes, even the teacher hesitated, like I had had fleas or some sort of disease. Johnny picked me up every day after he got out of school. It was a half hour wait, but I'd be there sitting on the wall, kicking my feet and drawing, waiting for him to come get me. He always took the time to talk to my teacher, smiling approval every time he heard about my grades or my progress, but frowned when he heard I wasn't making any friends.

I had always noticed Johnny wasn't the same after dad died, he tried to hide it under smiles and jokes, so his friends could never tell, but I could. For some reason, it especially showed when I was seven. Before I turned seven, I begged Johnny to say I was still six, that it was my sixth birthday, or that I was eight and it was my eighth, but he wouldn't budge.

"Annabel Marie, you're going to have a seventh birthday, don't be silly about the number seven bit. Now where are those damn candles?" I felt defeated, and handed him the seven candles to put on my cake. He looked at me and frowned. "Annie, tomorrow's your birthday, now you're gonna have fun with the kids in your class and enjoy your birthday." My eyes went wide.

"Kids from school? Johnny!" I whined. "I don't know them, will they come?" I watched as he began to grin.

"Kids like cake, don't they Annie? I heard they like ice cream too." I frowned and was about to argue, but Johnny stuffed a cookie into my mouth and made a "shh" noise. I pouted the rest of the day, but soon forgot about it in the morning, the way most children do.

I was allowed to stay home from school that day, and watched the T.V. most of the day. Johnny came home earlier than normal, saw me in my pajamas on the couch, and put his stuff down.

"Annabel Marie, what're you doin', bein' a bump on a log? Get your lil' butt in that room and get dressed for your birthday." He tried to be stern, but I smiled and he couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, okay Annie. Get in there, get dressed, and then you get to help me bake that cake of yours, got me?" I nodded happily and skipped off to my bedroom. With dad being gone, we were able to afford a little more when it came to clothes, though Johnny always got them a size too big, I liked the skirts and sun dresses I got. I was strange, I wore boy boxers and a t-shirt to bed, and wore skirts and sun dresses during the day, and Johnny called me Were-Girl, a tomboy at night and a little lady during the day. I ran out into the kitchen and grabbed the stepping stool, plopping it down right beside Johnny and stepping onto it.

"How you gonna make this one, Johnny?" I looked up at him; he had everything out, eggs, milk, flour, vanilla; the works. He put his hand to his chin and made a humming noise, then brought out some chocolate chips and a lemon. "How about a lemon-chocolate cake? I'll put some lemon flavored icing onto of it, if you want." He smiled down at me as I nodded and got a little bowl out, zested the lemon a bit, cut it in half, squeezed some juice over the zest, and put in a spoonful of sugar. He handed the bowl to me, gave me a small spoon, and I started stirring as he went on to make the batter and melt the chocolate down. He poured some milk and a teeny bit of cream cheese with more sugar into the lemon bowl and I stirred it until it was all mixed in. I put the bowl down and looked at it; it looked like yellow milk, but a little thicker. Johnny put the lemon milk into the chocolate one and mixed it in until it was like a dark golden-brown, he then poured that into the flour, salt, a little more sugar, and three eggs, mixed it all up and gave my the spoon.

The smell of lemon and chocolate filled the house as Johnny helped me pick up the house. We chased each other around, I threw a towel at his head and then right after a pair of his own boxers, which landed on his head. He threw off the boxers and tried to put them on my head, but I screamed and ran off into the bedroom, trying to push the door closed, but he stopped me and put the boxers on my head. I screamed and laughed, throwing them off.

"Johnny, that is gross!" I picked up cup of water and threatened to toss it on him. "I'm gonna get you, Johnny!" He ran off as I chased him into the kitchen. The water spilled a little bit onto the floor in front of me, next thing I knew, I was on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, my head throbbing, and my arm burning. I tried to lean on my arm and heard a snap that scared me. I slipped back down and started to cry as the pain throbbed and doubled every time it had. I couldn't tell what happened, all I remember is trying to stop crying at the hospital, because everyone was staring at me. Mom was there, yelling at Johnny and he was yelling back. My head hurt and I couldn't focus, but I was told not to sleep, so I didn't until they said I could.

I woke up the next morning, Johnny sleeping on the other side of my bed. I looked at my arm, which hurt, but not as bad as it had before. I stared at the heavy white cast on my arm, wondering what exactly had happened and saw that there was writing on it. I looked at it; 'I love you, Annabel. I'm sorry'. I knew that it was from Johnny, he had always that kind of nice hand writing. I got up best I could and woke Johnny up. The minute he sat up, I gave him a hug and he started crying, telling me he was sorry over and over again. It wasn't his fault, I knew he was sorry and he didn't have to tell me. I looked at the calendar, seeing yesterday's date and scowled at it in disgust; I wished I had never turned seven.

It was a few years before anything else too special happened, Johnny was doing great in high school and I was following his lead for the rest of third grade and all of fourth. I started fifth grade the same time Johnny started his senior year, his grades began to slip a little when he skipped school to take care of me, and he did that as much as he could afford. He barely made it to all his football and baseball practices or games. He was a star player, so he was given some slack for missing out on some things. Mom always said he'd move onto college football or baseball, then pro in whichever one he wanted. Johnny said he played baseball for mom and football for dad. He was always better at football, and he found football more exciting than baseball anyways.

I had just turned ten, and Johnny was going to turn eighteen next month, he was like the dad I always wanted, but I knew he was just my big brother. He helped me every night with school work, and he was always so proud of my grades. He always tried to get me to make friends, though I never did. I didn't want anyone to replace him; he was my best friend no matter what. He had girls come over occasionally, they never stayed too long, and there was a new girl for every week. Most of them complained about how much time he put into helping me, and how little he put into being around them, Johnny always told me that they were just good-lookin' faces with no good-lookin' brains to match.

It took him awhile, but he found his good-lookin' face with good lookin' brains to match. Her name was Vicky, and at first, I didn't like her, I was defensive little sister and I felt threatened by another female, other than mom, in the house. She was tall, like Johnny, but a little shorter; she had bright blonde hair and bright, glittering brown eyes. She was typically always happy, always smiling, and she enjoyed doing whatever Johnny enjoyed. It wasn't long before I got the hint that Vicky wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, so I decided to make friends with her. She was incredibly nice, and even offered to help me with school work when Johnny couldn't. Vicky and I became fast friends, and it stayed that way at the house for about five months.

I suppose watching Johnny and Vicky together kicked in the boy-crazy phase of my life. I was never an active force on the play-ground, instead I sat from afar and watched one crush after another, not even having the guts to ever stand next to them in line. I began to right childish romance stories and read romance novels probably a little too old for my age. My boy-crazy phase turned into a hopeless but silent romantic phase, a quick change, and it happened around the time we were introduced to sex-ed in school. All the girls in the class were giggly, but I was the most serious about it. I was curious, not so much physically curious, but mentally curious. I wanted to know everything without even trying any of it. I kept to myself, reading my books, as Johnny and Vicky were either in his room, on the couch, or out on a date. Things were like that everyday for about five months, until Johnny graduated.

Mom reminded Johnny of how perfect he used to be, and as the school year came to a close, he had graduated only second in his class, not first like mom wanted. Mom screamed at him on his graduation night until she was blue in the face. I watched the clock, and she spent an entire two hour period yelling at him, saying he was a stupid piece of crap and useless to her. When she finally left, Vicky comforted him. I watched, not jealous, just worried for Johnny. I liked Vicky, and I knew she'd take care of him in ways I couldn't. I would have been right next to her, helping to comfort Johnny, but I felt that they needed to be alone. When I heard mom drive off, I closed my bedroom door and went to bed, it wasn't until noon that I got up. I walked out into the living room and saw that Vicky had spent the night, which was new, but it didn't bother me. I got some cereal and went back into the room. I read a book until Johnny came into the bedroom. He looked tired, but happy, which was good. I looked up at him and he smiled.

"Thanks Annie, I know you wanted to help me last night." He sat down as I nodded.

"You two looked like you needed to be alone, you know I'm not dumb, Johnny. Sex-ed was earlier this year, you signed the papers yourself." I laughed a bit as he blushed and nodded, then he looked at me with a grin on his face. He knew the kind of books I read, and that I knew what he and Vicky had done together. I looked back up at him and asked "Is she still here Johnny?"

Johnny just grinned and shook his head as he walked out the bedroom door "You're too old for yourself, Annie." He chuckled as he walked off.

Johnny had been looking for a job the whole summer after he graduated, he would usually come home sunburned and disappointed. When I heard him start to unlock the door, I expected him more burned than the day before and start asking for the Aloe-Vera. This time, however, he was more white that a ghost. I got up, worried, and walked up to him.

"Johnny, are you okay…?" I grabbed his arm and shook him a bit. He looked down at me dazed and nodded. I sighed in relief, then looked him over, completely puzzled. All of a sudden, like a light switched on in his head, he jumped up and hollered, picked me up and squeezed me.

"Annie, Annie, Annie! Oh, this is great! Is she here yet? Did she tell you?"

I blinked, caught off guard and shaken a bit, then looked at him with my eyebrow raised.

"Who's going to be here to tell me what?" Johnny stopped hopping around in circles and looked at me, with one of the biggest grins I had ever seen.

"Vicky's pregnant, Annie! You're goin' to be Auntie Annie and I'm-" He paused for a minute, as if realizing this for the first time. "Gonna be a dad!"

After the initial shock, life in the house settled into a slightly new routine, with Vicky coming over every day, and Johnny coming home after job hunting, then later, after work. He was the happiest man alive; everyday he'd give Vicky a kiss, hug her, and tell her he loved her. They looked like the perfect couple, and I often found myself using their personalities in my short stories. It was that way until late July when Vicky was just starting to show her pregnancy, that she started to seem distant. Naturally, Johnny wasn't going to see it, but it made me worry. In my mind, it was something horribly wrong, something that caused disaster for a perfect couple in any story, so I decided to be the intervening force to stop it.

At first, I almost studied Vicky, her attitude, her cravings, her hunger, the way she walked, talked, and any other mannerism that may have changed. Nothing seemed to have changed at first, but then suddenly I noticed she wasn't hungry as much anymore didn't complain about a sore back, and that he stomach had gotten a tad smaller, instead of larger. I nearly panicked at the thoughts that ran across my head, but instead, I talked to Vicky. I decided that I should do it before Johnny came home from work, so I sat next to her on the couch.

"Could I ask you a question, Vicky?" I smiled a bit and she nodded.

"Of course you can Annabel" She laughed slightly, and in my mind, it sounded nervous. "I mean, I'm practically your sister now, right?" She shifted her weight over and faced me. I nodded, unsure of how to start.

"Yeah, you are, so I worry about you too, just like I do Johnny. Of course I worry about him more, and that's why I want to know why your stomach is smaller, not bigger. Or is it just me?" There was no other way to ask about it, so I decided to be blunt. If there had been any other way to ask, I'm sure I didn't quite have the vocabulary for it at that point. She looked at me, taken aback by my bluntness and looked at me a moment, seeming to carefully choose her words.

"I…had to make a decision, Annie. It wasn't an easy one, but I had to do it. I couldn't have this baby Annie, I'm too young, and I was scared…" As she struggled to find the right words, I gaped, I couldn't believe it. At first I questioned my level of understanding, but then I knew. How could she possibly do such a terrible thing? I stood up and looked at her, probably as torn apart and confused as Johnny was when he found out.

"You aborted Johnny's baby?" She looked at me wide-eyed with a guilt ridden face and looked down. "When did you do it?" I asked, with demand, holding back tears. She looked to the side, and took in a deep breath before she said anything.

"Last Friday."

I blinked, thinking back on the days and went wide eyed. I thought back for a moment, and counted back from today. That was the seventh! She looked at my reaction. "I couldn't do that for Johnny, I know he wanted the baby, but I couldn't do it, I was so scared. Annie, you're so young, you wouldn't understand…" I looked at her in the eyes.

"Wouldn't understand? Vicky you killed Johnny's baby, your baby. I'm pretty sure that I can understand murder!" I shook my head, looking at the ground, not wanting to face her, She instantly turned into the most horrid person I had ever known. I couldn't believe it, I was so angry, so upset -for Johnny! I ran out the front door and down the street, crying my frustration. I sat down on a random curb and sat there until I stopped crying. I sighed and looked at the ground for awhile, I stared absently, unaware of everything, until I finally snapped back into reality, noticing the shadows were in different places than before. I got up, knowing Johnny would have been home for awhile. I couldn't bear to even imagine his grief, the look of anguish on his face, but I had to go back home.

I got home, and Vicky had disappeared, Johnny was at the table, waiting for me. His eyes were red from old tears as he looked at me enter the room. I didn't know what to do, so I stood by a chair at the table, looking back at him. It was only a second before he sighed.

"Annabel, you know me better than anyone in this entire world, and before today, you had been the only one to ever see me cry. You're the one girl in my life who hasn't broken my heart, and hasn't left my side, not even for one minute. You know what that's called?"

I sat down on a chair and shook my head, I was a little confused, and didn't really want to speak. He nodded, looked down at the table, then back up to me.

"Annabel Marie, that's called family, a real family. You may be my sister, but you're my daughter too, the only one I'll have in my life. If you weren't always there, I'd be gone a long time ago." He stood up and walked over to me. "I want from you what any real father wants to see his daughter do, Annie. Grow up, get yourself an education, fall in love, and start yourself a family you can call your own. I'll be there for you every step, one way or another. That's what I'll do for you as your big brother, and the father you always deserved."

It had been a year since Vicky disappeared; Johnny didn't deserve to be treated like that about his baby, and ever since then, he had been fighting with mom more and more, whenever she was home, they'd fight about something. From what would be for dinner back to how dumb I was. This time, I knew my mom was just fighting for the sake of fighting, she couldn't possibly know whether or not I was dumb, she wasn't ever home enough to see my grades, she didn't even care enough to ask. She left one night after a big argument with Johnny. I knew, subconsciously, that the day was still March 7th, and I had taken every precaution to keep Johnny from harm, it was my monthly routine. It didn't cross my mind once that the number seven would affect my mom, too.

She walked out and never came back. The next morning cops were at our door, apologizing for our loss. I was 12, it was the middle of my seventh grade year, I had been lucky enough not to have anything bad happen so far, but I think I almost expected it to be mom, though I never knew why. I had fought with Johnny to not make me enter the seventh grade, I even fought with mom about it, I tried so hard, but to no avail. Then, before I could even realize anything, the number seven had taken its toll on my life again, this time it took my mother along with it. CPS took me away from Johnny at seven in the morning; I was stuck in the building until they took me away to a foster care home at seven that night. I cried so hard, I kept the others in the room up, but I didn't care, I wasn't aware of anything but the fact that I should not be there. I never remember being so sad before, I felt the loss of my brother, like he had died; being apart from him was more than I could bear, with no hope of seeing him again soon. I couldn't cry for my mother, though I tried, she gave me life, and though she hated me, I loved her. I couldn't cry for her, and I cursed myself for it.

Johnny jumped through all the hoops, filled out all the paper work, paid all the fines and fees to get me back. When he did, I hardly recognized him; he was thin, not as muscular as he was before, grew a goatee and looked haggard. It didn't matter to me, as long as he was in my life still. I felt selfish, but I just wanted to stay with my brother, I couldn't ever be by myself. I managed to scrape by seventh grade with a three point five grade point average, and my grades were poor to begin with in eighth grade. The last three months of school didn't look promising. Though I did extraordinarily well on mid-terms, it only brought my grades up to D's.

Johnny worked early in the morning and got home just before I did from school, never letting on how bone tired he really was when he stayed up late with me. He made sure that all my school work was done and that I understood all of the material. At the end of the year, I received three awards at promotion; most improved, honor roll, and top of my eighth grade class. Johnny asked for the day off to support me at the Promotion, on May 7th. I was a nervous wreck all day, I wanted Johnny to be careful, and I told him to. He had said he would, but that doesn't mean he actually did take care and watch out for himself. He had just got back from working a double, and was even still in his work clothes. When he stood up to applaud when I walked, he collapsed onto the floor. I more than panicked, I jumped from the stage and to his side, yelling, frightened. He was rushed to the hospital, but when the doctor talked to me, she said he'd be okay if he got some sleep, he didn't sleep enough to sustain the amount of work he did.

I made him take an early vacation from work to get his rest in, and he did, but I wish he could quit all-together. This wasn't what he wanted to do, he had always wanted to be a professional chef, cooking gourmet meals and desserts, and he had the talent for it. Instead of cooking fine foods, however, Johnny wasted his life away at a concrete company, laying down heavy blocks, working overtime and getting hurt on an almost daily basis.

In the next two years, I saw Johnny's health wither away before my eyes; he got thinner and thinner, his eyes deep-set with dark circles under them. He slept only a little more than he had before, but I could see he was tired now, he didn't even have the energy to hide it. Just before I began high school, I was tested into the gifted program, and from there, I skipped ninth grade, finished tenth grade, and skipped my junior year, and advanced to my senior year. I graduated top of my class, the youngest in the class, with an achievement of having finished high school in two years. I received scholarships and invitations to go to universities near and far, across the country. Johnny was so proud, he told me he bragged about me all the time at work, called me his daughter.

I was deciding which university I'd like while I was still in high school, and when I decided I wanted to go to Yale University, my brother found a job there. He quit his old job when I graduated, and moved to Connecticut when I did. I had a full-ride scholarship, but I turned down the opportunity to stay in the dorms, and stayed in a comfortable two-bedroom condo with Johnny, using the remaining scholarship money towards more classes to quicken my pace to a Masters in Graphic design. I was always so sure I wanted to major in graphic design, with a minor in architecture. I loved building and creating the unusual, making things spring to life on paper with only a pencil. By the time I turned twenty-one, I had finished a four-year course in three and a half years. The ceremony to celebrate wasn't for another four months, so I went job searching and received a job at an advertising company, as an assistant advertisement design executive. The pay was beyond amazing, the work was fun, and the hours were easy; I could work from home if I wanted.

Though the people were nice and talked to me often, I still didn't actively socialize, I liked work too much. With how much I was paid, we were able to afford Johnny quitting his job by the end of June. When the day finally came to receive my Masters, I could hardly contain how excited I was. I had bought my first nice outfit for the occasion, bought new make up, and curled my hair with my new curling iron. But I couldn't help this aching feeling I had in the pit of my stomach. To this day, I curse myself for never checking the calendar.

I had a horrible feeling that something was going to happen to Johnny if I left for the ceremony. He urged me to go, saying he'd be there soon after. So I sat there in the great hall, waiting, trying to see if he'd come through the doors and make an entrance, like he used to do. Some guy sat next to me suddenly, probably getting away from the annoying girl in the back, and he began to stare. I was too worried and on edge to look at him, and when my name was called to go up, and the polite applause roared, my heart nearly fell to my stomach. I didn't see Johnny, not once, not even when I shook a whole bunch of hands waiting in line after I received my certificate. I panicked, I looked around, unsure of what to do. I knew instantly that something was very, very wrong. I looked at the door and ran out the building, across the street, into my car, and sped my way back to our condo.

When I walked in, I saw Johnny sprawled out on the kitchen floor, car keys in hand, and a nice, clean tux. He had just been leaving, so it couldn't have been that long ago. I searched for a pulse and couldn't find one. I called 9-1-1 and gave Johnny CPR; I didn't know what else to do. My eyes blurred with tears, I couldn't tell if it was working, so I kept on trying, angrily wiping the tears away. The ambulance came, and I didn't want to leave his side, they had to shove me away, and I still tried to push past them, screaming, sobbing. I looked up at the calendar just as they announced the time of death. Seven O'clock P.M., on the seventh day of the seventh month. My eyes went wide, though I couldn't see past them anymore. They carried Johnny away, and as they drove off, there was no siren to be heard, no life to save. He died when he was twenty-nine, he had been too young.