Your sister….your sister is sick. Very sick, son. You know that.” He squeezed my shoulder, and brought me in for a half Biker dad like a normal dad only cooler vintage shirt . “She’s not a witch. Hell, if she was, she’d probably be able to cure herself.” I looked up at him, unable to read his expression in profile. His chin was covered in stubble, and his mouth was pinched like an old man’s. “Her mother was like that too, at the end.” He reached for the picture on the bedstand- the only one I knew of with the four of us, against the backdrop of a sweeping cabin surrounded by thick foliage. His hand hovered over it, hesitating with emotion. “Your mother, she was…so beautiful. I know you’re too young to remember, but that house, in the woods- it was like a fairytale. It was just- just us, up there. Just us. No one for miles.” He sighed and put it down.
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I became obsessed with the supernatural after that. I wanted her to be a witch- I wanted her to get better, moreso than what science seemed to be capable of Biker dad like a normal dad only cooler vintage shirt. I started googling the history of the occult, reading what PG material I could through the parental filters, then learning to bypass the child locks to get to the good stuff. I collapsed in on myself, and became quiet and introverted, started wearing a lot of black; a baby goth, once I hit puberty. No one was surprised. It was sort of like my early childhood was just staving off the inevitable depression I was bound to suffer through, the third generation of brooding mental discord. My father learned to sit at a table in dead silence, with two children staring at him blankly. I learned to love my sister more, enjoying her bizarre chattering, the looks we got when we went out in public. I never took the brunt of her erratic mood swings. She would lash out at my father, at her nurse, at her doctors- but with me she was always quiet. She liked to just sit in my room and watch me, while I was playing video games, doing my homework, the usual boring stuff. Sometimes she would come up behind me and use one of her doll brushes to comb my hair. I was never afraid of her.
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