Under that grave stone , she lies , never again to awake from the peaceful slumber called " Death . "

I, however , am just standing here , wishing in some way that my dearest sister would hurry up and return to me .
I wish that she could 'talk' with me again , like we did in secret when Father would look for us , blaming �her �for supposedly ' killing ' our mother .

 It was wrong to blame my beloved sister for such a thing - this so called murder-she was �but an infant , being the second to be born . Mother had soon passed away after the birth of little Miya...No matter how much I tried to reason with father after he had nearly drowned� Miya when she was but a mere 7 or so years old...

 But he didn't care . He wouldn't take advice from me back then , when I as well was only 7 years old , and nothing more than a sickly little boy . And he would just keep hitting her , until she would pass out from the pain . I would awaken in the middle of the night to the sound of lashing and shrill screams . . .

 Those screams still haunt me every time I close my eyes .

 The terror I felt when I saw how many bruises covered her fragile little body . I stopped Dad right away that time . That time , and only a few times afterward . . . I couldn't stand what grotesque image of agony and pain that my dearest sister had become...

 Our Father hated her . Even when she tried to apologize , though she never knew whatever she were apologizing for , he would never forgive her for " taking the life of the woman he had loved so much " .

... I , however , could argue with him on this opinion , for Little Miya was only an infant , thus , unable to recall the events of her birth , let alone be aware that she were even living when she had barely been born . . .

... I had only chose not to . He always threatened to kill us both if any word of this abuse had reached the police .

... And Little Miya had lost her voice by the time we were both 13 years of age . She wouldn't talk ,no , she would only write all she had wished to say on a small piece of violet stationery paper . A few weeks after our 14th birthday-yes , that was when she had suddenly rushed into the room , looking more terrified than ever . She stared in wide-eyed fear at me . I had asked her what ever the matter was , and she scribbled furiously onto the usual piece of violet paper .

 " Dad said that he'll kill me ! "

 I had stared in disbelief , being such  foolish skeptic , and replied ,

 " He always threatens to kill us . "

 Miya whimpered and scribbled once again .

" But he's serious this time ! Really dead seriously . ."

 I hadn't the faintest as to what that meant .She seemed really frustrated that I couldn't understand that no word could describe how serious Father was about killing her this time around . She had been crossing out all of the descriptions as to how serious she was . . .

" Don't worry, he won't do anything . " , I assured her , " Besides-isn't t wrong to threaten minors- I mean -anyone ? "

Miya had nodded her head . She had written down the words

" Let's run away from here . "

 On the paper . I had shaken my head furiously , knowing Father wouldn't dare of doing such a vile thing as killing two teenagers for no profit whatsoever . I didn't want to believe it , even though I had overheard the words spoken from Father's mouth himself , even though I had seen him raise a kitchen knife at Miya . No matter what evidence , I just didn't accept it .

 Never .

 But of course , I was my foolish naive self .

 The next morning , I had found that terrified little girl , my beloved twin sister ,completely white . She was just completely pale white . Laying motionless on the kitchen floor . There was a large red mark on her neck . A rope had been  trailing off to Father's room . I pulled together this horrible fate , this puzzle , and it came to me ...

 He was serious after all .

 After all of that abuse , why didn't I believe my sister ?

I had known that panic in her eyes from when Father would torment her . The cries for help in every secret message she had written .Why could  not see how much she seriously wanted to run away from this prison , this Hell we called home Father was arrested , for how long still remains unknown to me . Our Aunt had payed for the funeral , and no matter how many times I stare at that grave stone , I still just won't allow myself to beieive that she's gone .

 Strangled by our own father...

 I had spent a month sleeping out in the cemetery , next to my dear sister...It didn't scare me one bit that I was surrounded by dead people . No ,  I wasn't scared a bit , because my sister was right next to me the whole time . And to this every day , I'm not in the least fazed by practical jokes from those fools at school , not terrified of those cheesy horror films we would watch in secret in our childhood , not scared of the cemetery .

 Not at all , not even in the slightest . But I still leave a large bouquet of Sunset colored roses on her grave . I still clean it every week , and once a month , I sleep next to that same grave .
 
 And not since the funeral have I ever spoken a word . In memory of my sister , I shall remain silent . 2 years have gone passed , and I still don't wish to say farewell .

Not even a little , I don't want to say goodbye to those remaining memories , those painful ones - not even a bit .