‘Give it back,’ I yelled as I ran into our shared room and wrestled my stupid sister to the floor. She grabbed the doll harder, pulling it close to her heart. My sister wasn’t having it, she always got what she wanted. My mother made it and I wanted it. I forced my fingers into the protective ball she’d formed with her body. That doll was going to be mine. Even though she was a whole year older, she was clumsier and tinier
– born too early, they all said. I was cleverer at six than she’d ever be, stupid child. I’d show her just how much. She needed to know her place. What was hers was mine, and that’s the way things would always be.
As I snatched the arm of the knitted doll, the sound of its button eye pinging against the bed frame stopped us both. All I could hear was the music Daddy played on the wireless, something about the devil in disguise. My stupid sister was the devil in disguise.
She gave me a teary stare as she hugged the disfigured toy. ‘Don’t you dare cry! You know what you’ll get if you cry.’ It wouldn’t be the first time my idiot sister had got me into trouble by bawling her eyes out for nothing. She was always Mummy and Daddy’s favourite with her strawberry blonde curls and her stupid sickly pale face. With a trembling bottom
lip, her tears turned into loud sobs. I pinched her hard. ‘Stop it, stop it, stop it,’ I yelled.
My heart began to hammer as I heard the music stop, followed by Daddy’s footsteps thundering up the creaky old stairs. ‘Your mother goes out for five minutes and you just can’t be a well-behaved little girl. What’s going on here? I should tan your bloody hide,’ Daddy shouted. I realised I was gripping her so hard that she was turning red.
‘She broke her doll and she’s upset,’ I said as I pretended to hug her. Feeling her pulling away from me, I gripped her closer until I was pinching her again. ‘Don’t you dare move,’ I whispered in her ear as I stroked her hair. Her tears began to wet my sleeve, all because of her stupid doll.
‘Are you all right, my lovely?’ he said as he kneeled down, prising my arms from her. Always her, she could do no wrong.
I pulled her back towards me and squeezed her harder, pinching the skin on the back of her arm, and she nodded. Her expression was betraying me as her bottom lip began to quiver again. Daddy’s gaze moved from hers to mine. ‘I’ve told you about this before, haven’t I?’ he yelled as he pulled me from my sister and dragged me along the wooden floor and down the landing, the floral dress Mummy made me riding up towards my chest.
‘Not the cupboard. Daddy, please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’
It was no good pleading. After slapping the top of my leg and flinging me to the back of the dark cupboard, he turned the key in the lock, leaving it in so that no light could filter through. I shivered in the darkness. It was all her fault, it always was. As soon as Mummy came home, she’d let me out and I’d show my horrible sister exactly what I could do. The wireless was switched back on. Daddy was downstairs again
singing along to some old song that Grandma likes, probably resting in front of the fire, awaiting Mummy’s return.
‘Let me out,’ I called. A shaft of light replaced the darkness. My sister’s green eyes stared at me through the keyhole. ‘Let me out.’
She took a step back, the torn knitted doll, gripped in her arms, unravelling a little more with each step. Her red puffy gaze met mine and she shook her head as another tear slid down her cheek.
‘You wait. You just wait, you naughty little girl.’ I kicked the inside of the cupboard before realising I’d just disturbed all the spiders. The light was taken from me as she placed the key back in the lock. ‘Leave the key out,’ I yelled as I kicked harder. Daddy turned the music up even louder until my cries could be heard no more.
I hate her, I really do. I will always hate her.