I Love you too

“Again?” I cried indignantly. 

“I swear I didn’t mean to, It just sort of happens!” 

“Ella, this sort of thing doesn’t just happen.”

“It does, honest!” She flipped her blond curls behind her shoulder, and glared at me. 

I took a deep breath. This was difficult for her too, I reminded myself. She’s your sister, have some compassion. I levelled my voice. 

“I understand that you’re trying. I’m sorry. It’s just, it’s like one-hundred percent easier to like, not kill people than to kill people. Can’t you just...not?” I knew I sounded pathetic, and that she couldn’t just not. But it was worth asking. 

She walked over to me, and grabbed my hand.  “I just… I have to. I’m sorry. You don’t have to help me again. I don’t want to burden you. I’m sorry.” She looked away, dejected. 

I shook my head resolutely. “Of course not. You and me forever, kid. I love you.” 

She nodded. “I know.” 

She smiled, and hugged me. Her face was buried in my shoulder, she was on her tip-toes, being at least a head shorter than me. I clutched her hair in my fist.She was my baby sister, and I would take care of her forever, no matter what. 

“Ok, so where is he?” I asked. 

“Um” she bit her lip. “In his house, on the floor.” 

“How did you um…” I cut myself off awkwardly. 

“Strangulation.” 

I looked at my small, thirteen-year-old, sister. Emil Warner was a pretty big sixty-year-old guy. It wasn’t the greatest feet she’d accomplished, but it still surprises me to this day. 

“Kayden, help!” She whined, rocking in her chair. 

“Right, sorry. You get the rope I’ll get the gas.” She nodded, and skipped into the back shed, a tiny compartment behind our trailer. 

I don’t like calling it that, “trailor. It has negative connotations. I took my sister when she was ten and I was fifteen, and I’d been working as a waitress, taking care of her ever since. It wasn’t a lot, but it’s cozy, and pretty, and I'm proud of it. 

I brought a couple home-depot buckets into the backyard, and filled them up with a disgusting mix of gasoline, cognac, and whiskey. I racked my brain for anything else we had in the house that I could use, but there wasn’t anything. This would have to do. 

Emma ran over to me, holding a tangled mess of frayed brown rope triumphantly. 

She and I worked out the knots, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the grass. 

“So what’d he do?” I asked

“Who?” her eyes were trained on the knot she was working on. 

“Warner.” 

“Oh” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “He whistled at me when I was walking to the seven-eleven. And you know, he lives alone.” 

I nodded. “Do you think you could talk to me next time? I won’t be mad, I just want to be able to help you.” 

She shrugged, “I’ll try.” 

“Thanks.” I checked my watch, five o’ clock. “You want to get a pizza?”

She dumped her piece of rope into the buckets. “Yeah, with olives.” 

We sat until dark, eating and laughing together. 

I sighed and got up. “Alright kid, let’s go.” 

We grabbed the buckets and walked to Warner's house.

I cleared my throat. “baby,I was just thinking. Maybe we should talk to someone about this. It keeps happening and I just, you know, i want you to be ok.” 

The solutions sloshed onto my knees as I walked, and my sister slammed her bucket down in front of her. 

“How could you say that?!” she demanded

I tried to explain but she cut me off. 

“I thought you said I would be safe with you! I thought you said you loved me.”

My breath stopped, and my body was lit aflame with manic energy. “Ella I do love you. I love you more than you can imagine. I swear I was just suggesting it for your health.  I don’t care what you do- who you...kill. I will take care of you no matter what.” 

She wiped her eyes, despite them being dry. “You just want to get rid of me. You want me to go to prison.”

I cursed myself, and dug my fingers into my arms. How could you say that? I asked myself. 

I took her hand in mine, and knelt in front of her. “I should never have said anything. I’m sorry, we all make mistakes, love. It was a stupid idea. No one ever has to know.”

She nodded and sniffled. She embraced me in a strong hug, and I breathed deeply. I could smell her coconut conditioner, and I could feel her tears on my shoulder. 

“I’m sorry” I repeated again. 

She picked back up the bucket, and continued to walk. “I forgive you.” She said. 

God, what an angel. What did I ever do to deserve her? 

We reached Warner's house at 9:40. We usually would wait ‘till later, but he lived in an old farmhouse on eight acres of land. No one would see. I took a pin out of my hair and slid it into his peeling white door. WIth practiced precision, I opened the door. I was hit with the smell as soon as I walked in. After his death, Warner’s muscles had all relaxed, leaving him in a puddle of his own excrement. His body was bloated, and his eyes bulged. His neck was covered in purple bruises. 

My sister and I put down the buckets, and began spreading the rope around the house. I played country music on my radio. We hummed and bobbed our heads as we snaked the rope up the stairs down the stairs, and in every room. Everywhere it went, it spread the noxious liquid. 

I ruffled Emma’s hair as she taped the rope onto the walls.

She giggled when I tripped over mine.

I pulled the end of the rope onto Warner's front porch.  I struck a match and lit the end of the rope. I held my sister’s hand and sat in the grass as we watched the Warner house burn. I tried not to imagine him screaming, as Ella’s little white hands clasped his throat. 

Ella was transfixed by the flame. She clasped my hand, and the fire’s reflection danced in her eyes. A wide grin spread across her face. “I love you too.” she said.