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A/N: I missed the deadline :p
She always hated fig newtons, always opting for sandwiches instead, where the lettuce and tomatoes were always fresh. It didn’t matter that she replaced snacks with an almost meal; when she was hungry, she ate sandwiches. At her funeral, friends, family, professors, and others whom I could not identify arrived to pay their final respects. Surprisingly, no one shed a tear, except for a baby, who was uncomfortable in the mid summer swelter. We hadn’t seen rain in such a long time. Clouds were afraid of this part of the world during the summer, coming once or twice a month if we were lucky, which we weren’t that year. Janine was my cousin. We were the same age, and growing up, our families would gather weekly for dinners and to watch movies. It was when her parents died in a car crash involving a drunk driver did Janine move in with us.
Growing up, we couldn’t have been more different. She was very feminine, though very tomboyish, whereas my younger brother would tease me for not getting through puberty when I had just finished high school. I tried many different things to seem more grown up and mature, like high heeled shoes, and all sorts of different bras, some with padding, others using water. Janine never laughed right to my face, but I knew she found it pathetic and rather amusing to walk in on me in the bathroom measuring myself. I had my eyes out on one particular boy, who was very silent, and didn’t interact much with others. His quiet disposition, as well as his amazing ability on the badminton court captured my eye and stole my heart. I thought I might be able to fall in love with him, and I shared this with Janine. She never once said anything about love, either her own, or a comment on my love life, or lack thereof. She would just nod, and listen.
She never seemed interested in finding someone to spend her Saturday nights with, or who she could talk to, other than me. Since her parents died, she didn’t speak to anyone else but us, and even then she only spoke to the family during games or watching movies. She always loved playing wildcard games, and would always say, “Wildcard games are nothing without at least one dip,” then complete her saying with the appropriate action. We always let her slide, though I knew she’d never be able to beat me fairly. Janine’s death happened not too long after such a game where she won, of course. She finished with a bright smile, and then helped clean the table of the cards and empty snack food bowls, and went to her room. It was right across the hall from mine. The door was usually always closed, because she liked her privacy. It was nearing midnight when I decided to turn in. I changed, brushed my teeth, and on my way back from the bathroom I noticed light filtering out from under her door. That was odd, as she usually went to bed earlier than the rest of us.
I slowly opened the door, calling her name. I didn’t get to finish when I screamed, backing out of the room and slamming into my partially closed door. It pushed open, letting me fall to the floor. My mom kept my brother and I in her bedroom while my father called for help. My mom and me were in tears, hugging each other as my brother sat vigilant at the window, watching shadows creep along our back balcony. The news of what Janine had done did not sink in until after her funeral when we had just gotten home. We couldn’t bear to touch her room, to clean it out or clean it anymore than it already was from the terrifying event. I knew as I passed the door that it would never open again.
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