My Sister is Missing: The most creepy and gripping thriller of 2019. Carissa Lynch Ann
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to come. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to meet my niece and nephew … I just didn’t want to come to Bare Border to see them. Madi had never shown any anger about my absence from their lives, but I suspected that my failure to be a decent aunt, and not showing up for my father’s funeral, were the reasons for her becoming more distant with me over the phone lately.
‘Here they are!’ My sister was standing in the middle of the kitchen with her arms spread wide, and all I could think was: This is where my mother should be standing.
An image of my mother in her stained cooking apron, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for her famous lasagna to finish baking in the oven, sprung up from my memories.
‘Where are the kids?’ I brought myself back into focus.
There was no one in the kitchen, besides my sister and me.
I walked around the empty space, taking my time. The wood cabinets were still painted white, just like mom used to keep them, but these were newer, not the same … yes, there were shiny new handles on the cabinet doors. I opened one of the drawers and closed it back. I could feel my sister watching me.
The sink had also been replaced by one of those modern vessels I’d only seen on TV. Tenderly, I ran my hands over the navy-blue countertops, my nose recognizing the green dish soap mom used to use. What was it called … Palmolive?
‘Are they hiding?’ I glanced back at my sister.
I was surprised to see that her expression had changed. Her lips were curled down, her eyes hard and serious, like two little black beads. Her initial excitement to see me had morphed into a mask I knew too well … she was worried about something.
‘I don’t have any children. I made all that up. The pictures, the stories…everything was a lie.’
‘Huh?’ I tilted my head to the side, waiting for the punchline.
But she still looked strange, her eyes floaty and her voice flat. Is my sister capable of telling such a massive lie? It’s not like I would know the difference—after all, I’ve never actually seen Shelley or Ben in person… My heart was thumping in my chest as I waited for Madi to explain.
‘Ahhh!’ I jumped back in surprise as the cabinet doors beneath the sink sprung open with a sharp bang. One at a time, two small children popped out and ran straight for me. I chuckled at my niece and nephew, surprised.
Behind me, Madeline was cackling now, just like she used to when she drank too much Seagram’s when we were teens. After all these years, I’d almost forgotten how much she loved to play pranks.
‘I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor,’ I said, rolling my eyes, and then I mouthed the word, bitch, over my shoulder, so only she could see it.
I knelt, taking both children in my arms.
The smaller of the two, my niece Shelley, lifted her feet in the air as she hung on my left arm. Ben was excited to meet me too and wrapped both arms around me. With the weight of them both, I had to steady myself.
‘So, you must be Shelley and Ben. I’m excited to finally meet you guys. I’m your Aunt Emily.’
‘We know that already, silly woman,’ said Ben. He let go of me, pacing back and forth next to little Shelley, while making a high-pitched squeal that set my teeth on edge.
His strange squealing didn’t surprise me much – Madeline had told me that he struggled with hyperactivity, and recently, a doctor had told her that he might be on the autism spectrum.
Shelley was more subdued, and keen to stay in my arms. I stood back up on my feet, lifting the tiny girl onto my right hip, then shifting her to my left in an awkward pose. I was surprised at how heavy she felt. I’d held a baby once or twice, but I’d never held up a toddler with one arm like this. Again, I felt my eyes welling up, as I stared into the face of my sweet little niece. She had my sister’s pointy chin and big smile, but those eyes … those bright blue eyes matched mine. I swallowed down a lump in my throat, trying to hold the tears at bay. It felt so good meeting these children – these extensions of my sister and I – for the first time. Suddenly, it seemed so ridiculous that I had waited this long to be in their lives.
‘And your imaginary husband … did you make him up, too? Where is John this lovely evening?’ I teased, glancing over at my sister.
Madeline’s bright red cheeks and toothy smile faded almost immediately. The worried look returned. I was half-expecting another stupid joke to follow, but when my sister pursed her lips and changed the subject, I knew something was wrong.
‘Let’s show Aunt Emily the bedrooms, shall we?’
Shelley and Ben wanted to show me their rooms first, of course. Overcome with nostalgia, I let Ben give me the tour of his bedroom, the same room where my sister had slept when we were kids. The Debbie Gibson posters and purple speckled paint were gone, replaced by neat brown and blue wallpaper, pictures of boats and trains on the borders.
‘Mom’s going to let me paint it soon. I don’t want these baby pictures no more. I want Five Nights at Freddy’s covering my walls.’ Ben raced back and forth in front of his TV set, running the tips of his fingers along the wall. There was a clear wear pattern in the carpet where I suspected he paced a lot.
‘Do you know the game Five Nights at Freddy’s? Want to play it with me?’ Ben asked, his words loud and strung together.
‘He’s obsessed with it,’ Shelley whispered, squeezing her tiny hand in mine.
Before I could answer Ben’s question, Madeline replied, ‘I’m sure Aunt Emily would love to, but not right now. We’re going to finish showing her around the house first.’ Ben made that high-pitched squeal again and saddled up to a laptop that set on his desk.
We left him there, already focused intently on his game, while we moved on with the tour.
Next was Shelley’s room. It was only one door down from Ben’s, but this room was smaller. This was the one I was most excited to see because Shelley’s room used to be mine.
Expecting to see a huge change in décor, I was shocked to see the same pink plaster, with tiny unicorn paintings on its surface. I’d painted those unicorns myself when I was only eleven years old.
‘You didn’t paint over them…’ I reached out to touch one of the unicorns. With its blue-black eyes and a long golden horn, it was sneering in a way that now almost seemed grotesque.
‘Of course not,’ my sister said.
‘I thought Mom would kill me when she saw what I’d done,’ I whispered, still running my fingertips over the bumpy paint.
‘Oh, I didn’t. I knew she’d love your little masterpiece,’ Madeline said, quietly. I didn’t have to see her face to know there was a trace of resentment there.
While she was always my father’s favorite, I was my mother’s baby. So, it was no surprise that when they split, we both took separate sides…
You let her get away with everything! I could still hear my sister’s startling screams echoing through the hallway. She loved me to death when we were kids, but our teenage years were strained.
The bedroom closet had white pocket doors that also looked the same. They were pushed halfway open, and without thinking, I reached for the handles, eager to see inside it.
‘I did paint over your stuff in the closet, though.’
My hands froze on the handles. ‘I’m glad,’ I mumbled as I turned away from the closet.
‘I love your bedrooms!’ I was trying to be one of those perky aunts, with overdone enthusiasm, like the ones you read about in wholesome novels, but in truth, this whole situation felt awkward and strange. I wasn’t used to being around kids, and even though I was thrilled to meet them, I couldn’t help feeling like an actress playing the part of ‘Aunty