alaska holt {d7} fin

"Come on Alaska! Let's go play," my little sister, Camille's, voice rings loudly. I laugh the laugh my father loves. He always tells me it's filled with so much joy and happines that I can capture someone's heart in an instant. I never believe him though. A laugh, what's so special about that? "Alright, alright" I tell Camille. I squat down so I am closer to her height. 5 years seperate the two of us. She's tall for her age, but so am I. Whenever someone asks me my height I answer with a resounding 5"10. I'm proud of my height and my 'legs that go for miles' according to my mom, it makes me unique. "So what do you want to play?" I watch as she scrunches up her face in concentration.



She looks identical to out mother when she does. Me on the other hand, I look nothing like our beautiful mother with her feminie features. I inherited my looks from our dad. Angular jaw line and very wide shoulders. If my hair wasn't long I'm pretty sure people would mistake me for a man. While I contemplate on the fact of what I would say if someone called me 'sir', I feel a small hand on my face. I return my attention back to my sister. "I figured out what I want to play," she said in her high-pitched voice. I gave a small smile already knowing the answer. "Alright let's hear it," I said."We are going to play..." She gave a long dramatic pause as if what we were going to do was some huge announcement, "Dress up!" She said it with a smile so big it was impossible to say no.



I lauged as she dragged me by the hand into our mother's room, the usual dress up place. Camille started raiding our mother's closet, looking for the oufit she was going to dress me in this time. I watched as she pulled out a black, floor length fitted gown. My mouth opened in awe. Wow This was one of my mom's finest dresses. One of the one's she saved for very special occasions. "Today," said Camille holding the dress up to me, as to make sure it would fit "You are going to be a princess."



Once I was finished being made over Camille made me stand in front of the mirror so I could see myself and I looked absolutley nothing like myself. The black dress gave me curves I didn't know I had and what we did with my hair looked incredible. The pearls she weaved through my hair seemed to be especially bright. "Wow," she whisphered "I wish I was as pretty as you." A confused look crossed my face. As pretty as me? But I'm not pretty. I examine myself closely in the mirror, my light green brown eyes looked dull compared to her bright blue ones. I had this weird reddish brown hair while hers was pin-straight and black. Her complexion was beautiful. Mine was extremely pale with a light dance of freckles across it. And I have that awkward gap between my front two teeth, hers were practically perfect. Camille was the pretty one, not me. I squated down and looked her straight in the eye. "Why would you want to look like this?" I made this crazy face that made me look slightly like a monkey. She seemed to find amusement from this beause she started cracking up. Her laugh is so contagious that I had to laugh with her. I had convinced her I was right. She was the pretty one, not me. There was no doubt in my mind.

Sometimes I wish I could go back to these days, where everything was laughs and giggles. But I know there's no going back. This happened six years ago. There was no more laughing or smiles in the house anymore. There was no going back. 

* * * 

"Daddy, what's wrong with her?" I can hear my little sister whispher from the other room. "I don't know sweetie, I don't know." But the thing is, he did know. He knew exactly what was wrong with me. He knew why I wouldn't eat, talk, or even move. Did he think my sister wasn't strong enough? Because she is. She went through exactly what the both of us went through too. 

I remember for almost 2 years Camille would come in and try to coax me to do something. It started with nice words and food. She would get me to eat a little but I wouldn't say anything. The words became harsher as I wouldn't respond to her kindness. She started to try and pull me out of the bed, to pull me out of my trance as well. It wouldn't work. It was hard, sometimes I wanted to give in, to hold her and tell her I was fine. But I couldn't, my body wouldn't let me.  

Camille got more and more frustrated. Her words became harsher. One day she came in and started screaming at me. I could tell she wasn't holding back. The fear, angeer, and abandement that she kept inside was coming out. It had to last for at least 20 minutes and when she was done she paused, waiting for me to have some kind of response. I didn't even flinch. I may not remember a word she said to me from her whole rant but the last 4 words she said to me before she ran out of the room crying have never left. "You're so useless anymore!" And these could be the words that possibly saved my life. 

Camille didn't come back after that. I don't know if our father didn't let her or if she had given up hope. But I'm gald she left me alone, it gave me time to think. This was probably the most activity my brain had in 2 years. I laid there for a week, just thinking about her words. Finally I realized she was right. Camille was right. I was useless. A useless log. How could I let this happen to myself? I was this fun, loveable girl that everyone wanted to be around. I was the popular girl,but now where were my friends. My guess was long gone. I would have done anything for my sister, but I have been ignoring her for the pat two years. She was right, I was useless. What have I done to myself? 

For the first time in two years I got up on my own. I opened the shades and squinted. It was so bright, I haven't seen the sun in such a long time, but I could tell by the direction from where the light was coming from it was morning. My father and my sister were probably in the kitchen eating breakfest. I took a deep breath, slightly nervous to see them, and made my way out of my room. It must have taken me 20 minutes to get there, even though the kitchen was right down the hall. My limbs were stiff and it was hard to move, but I made. When I finally got there the looks I was getting would make you think an alien just walked into the room. My father stared with his mouth hanging open, my sister even dropped her spoon.  

We stared at eachother like idiots for 5 minutes. I made an attempt to speak but all that came out of my mouth was a croaking noise. I had to clear my throat a few times before anything would come out. "Hello," I finally managed to say. It sounded nothing like me, all hoarse and raspy. But apparently it was enough for Camille because she got up and wrapped her arms around me. At first I wasn't sure what to do. Should I return the hug and give her false hope? What would happen if I went back into my trance? I finally hugged her back, resting my chin on the top of her head. "I missed you," she said. "I know," was the only answer I was able to give her. 

After that I actually tried. I would clean and cook. Camille would tell me how much she missed my cooking. Before, I would have laughed at her when she that, probably make a joke about it. But not anymore, at first I would just nod. But after a while I started giving a slight smile. Not like I used too. No, that would take a very long time. She didn't seem to care though, even a glimpse of the old me put a smile on her face that was so big you would think it never happeded. Another two months and I began to play with her again. Not dress up, she was past that stage and I think she knew not to push me that far. We would go for runs a lot. That was always fun. We began to enjoy them so much we made them a daily thing. I'd even began to tease her again. We'd race, sometimes I'd let her win, but I was fast and she knew that. She wouldn't say anything about me purposely losing and I was glad. It was one of the few things I could give to her after I abandoned her. 

When I finally returned to school I felt like my world was turned upside down. No one would come near me, not even my bestfriends. I guess that was good. I'm different now, I'm not the same girl I was before. Now, I'd rather be left alone then surrounded by a group of friends. I'd talk to people if they started a conversation with me, but I wouldn't go out of my way to talk to them. I was more evasive. I liked to find hiding places and just stay there. The biggest change had to be I was more reserved. I didn't smile, I didn't laugh. I was nothing like the old me. I was the complete opposite. The only time she would come out was at home with Camille. She was my salvation. And even she was taken away from me.

* * *

Barely three years after I lost my mother, after I came out of my horrible state, Camille became sick. So sick that the only thing the doctor's did for her was tell her to lay in bed. They weren't able to tell us what was wrong. Even if they did I'm sure we wouldn't have the money to afford the treatments she needed. It was hard for me to watch her struggle. I wish that I was able to do something, anything that may have helped her. But I knew I couldn't. I would sit there all day just talking to her and plaiting her hair. I could tell it relaxed her. At least it was something to make her journey out of the world slightly easier.



I watched as she became weaker and weaker. I was devestated. This is the girl who helped me and I could do nothing to help her. She became so weak it was a struggle for her to eat. I knew she only had a few days left. I didn't mention it to her, but I think she knew too. She wasn't stupid, she watched the exact same thing happen to our mother. Sometimes, I don't think my father gave her enough credit. She had to grow up so much faster than she should have. I could tell by the way she smiled at me. She looked at least 20 years older than she actually was. I smiled sadly and knelt besider her bed. "What is it Cammy?" I asked as I brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes. "I'm not dumb," she said. I could tell it was a struggle for her just to speak. " We both know I'll be gone soon." I inhaled quickly. "Shhh. Don't talk like that. You're going to get better soon. I have a-"she cut me off right in the middle of my sentence "I'm not a little girl anymore Alaska." I sighed, she's not. "I'm sorry, you're right." She gave a triumphant smile and then started couging. I winced a little, it was painful just to hear. "Since I won't be here much longer," she contined, "I want you have this." She held out her little hand. It was shaking from the effort it took her. She dropped into my hand her favorite ankle bracelet. "You need to have something to remember me by." she whisphered. "I could never forget you Cam," I took the ankle braclet and put it on. "But I'll never take it off." She looked at me, with her big beautiful eyes. There was so much passion in them, it was hard to watch her life be wasted. "Promise?" she asked in a vocice almost to quiet to hear. "I promise." I whisphered.



I took her hand in mine and held it. Her smile was so big, I thought she was six again. "I'm so tired,"she said. She gave a big yawn and her whole body shuddered. It looked so small and frail compared to what I was used too. "Then go to sleep little one. When you wake up, it'll all be better." It seemed to take the last bit of energy it had left to look at me. "Really?" she asked. I tried to smile, even though it probably looked like a grimance. "Really," I told her. She must've believed me because a smile crossed her face and she closed her eyes. I watched as her small chest rose for the last time and as the last wisp of breath was taken from her body.



Time seemed to have stopped. The birds stopped singing, there was no noise coming from outside. I seemed to be frozen as I sat there and stared at her lifeless body. But I did not cry, I did not weep, instead I removed her hand from mine and got up. I repositioned her body to make it appear that she was only sleeping, then I walked out of the room without shedding one tear. I needed to be strong. Not for me, not for my dad, but for Camille. I knew that she would not like if I went away again. She would not want me to do what I did when Mom died. I had to act differently. I had to push myself for her, keep living my life. And that is exactly what I would do.



I dropped out of school the next day. There was really no point in going. I went and got a job chopping down trees. I had my father teach me how to properly use an axe. I kept working at it. I threw myself into my work. Pretty soon, I was better than some of the men that worked in my section of the woods. I could feel the muscles in my arms strengthening, and the ones in my legs as well. I never stopped running. Everyday twice a day I would run, like we always use too. I couldn't figure out if it was out of habbit, or if the running was a part of her I couldn't let go.



Running and throwing axes was how I spent my free time. I decided that throwing the axes was better than taking out my frustrations on people. It's not like I ever talked to anyone anyway. I did listen though, like how I knew the man in blue overalls was cheating on his wife. Or how the lady with spiky hair had a very sick uncle. I don't think anyone could tell you one thing about me besides my name. I'm never really sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I would rather stay under the radar, but I don't have any real friends. Is it because people are scared of me? Or do I push them away?

* * * 

"Alaska!Dinner's ready," my dad calls from the kitchen. I shudder as I close the photo album I am holding. I may hate reliving these memories but I know I have to. It's the only thing that keeps me from going insane. They remind me to keep from leaving again, that things get better. But it also teaches me that things can go back to worse in an instant, I just have to keep pushing.