Please stop ghosting me

I stomped over to the dresser and grabbed the bracelet. “I don’t know why she can’t leave her hands off my stuff”. I continued stomping back to my room and put the bracelet back in my jewelry box. Jennifer could be sooo annoying. Ever since the car accident she kept taking my stuff and ignoring me. She was a pest before but now it had become twice as bad. This silent treatment stuff was driving me crazy. It was so childish. I crept back to her room and grabbed her favorite stuffed cat, Mr. Softie, off her bed and threw him under the bed. There, that would teach her. How did she like it when someone took her stuff? I wandered into the bathroom we shared and grabbed her lipstick off the counter. I wrote “don’t take my stuff again” in fantastic fushia on the mirror. I wrote it big so it would use more of the hideous lipstick I knew she had probably paid too much for at the beauty store. She would have to work at least four hours to pay for another lipstick. That would serve her right. She was my sister but I couldn’t stand her sometimes. 

    As the garage door groaned open and the empty half became visible inch by inch my anxiety ramped up. You would think by now it would get better but so far it hasn’t. Every day when I pulled in that agonizing upward glimpse of the garage seemed to force my heart into my throat with it. Maybe I should move. But all the memories were here, good and bad. I knew I couldn’t leave as draining as it was. I turned off the car and drug myself into the house, dropping my keys and purse on the counter in the kitchen. I lingered for a moment thinking I should eat something but didn’t have the energy. I think I’ll go upstairs and lay down for a bit. Maybe then I’ll have the gumption to make something and force it down. 

As I enter by room the first thing I notice it that Mr. Softie is missing. My heart began to pound a little. I knew I had left him leaning on my pillow that morning. That’s how I left him every morning. I started spinning around the room, frantically looking for him. Where had he gone? I threw the pillows off the bed and checked the bookcases but he was no where to be found. I finally got on my knees and looked under the bed and thank goodness he was there staring out, like he’d been waiting to pounce. “How in the world did you get under there?” But, of course, he didn’t answer. He just looked relieved I had found him and rescued him from his dark and perilous cave. I hugged him to me and placed him back on the bed. My sense of relief was overwhelming. My momentary panic was slowly leaving me feeling drained and exhausted. I reached for my pajamas and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. I just wanted to crawl into bed, place the covers over my head and sleep the night away. I entered the bathroom and as I switched on the light the message on the mirrow stuck out like a neon sign and I felt a chill go up my back. Who had written the message on the mirror? And what had I taken? Who had been in the bathroom? Thoughts were flying into my head like tornados, swirling and twisting until I couldn’t catch them. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. I thought of all those slasher movies where the girl screams in situations like this but how could they when the fright kept any breath from coming out? As my brain started to fire rationally again I quickly scoped out the bathroom and seeing no one hiding waiting to kill me I turned back to the mirror. 

    I gleefully watched from the bedroom door, waiting for her to notice the mirror. I couldn’t help but laugh as she scrambled about looking for poor Mr. kitty. I was almost disappointed when she found him and put him back on the bed. I knew the mirror would get her though – I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. As she entered the bathroom and saw the mirror I giggled – she looked really scared. That would teach her to take my things. She’d probably scream all kinds of insults and obscenities but I’ll laugh them off like I usually do. Maybe next time she’ll think twice about touching MY stuff. I walked to the threshhold of the bathroom and waited for the storm. She never even looked at me. She slowly sank to the floor and began to cry. Ugly cry. “Hey” I said. “It was just a joke. Next time don’t mess with my stuff”. She was so mad she didn’t even acknowledge me. 

   I sat on the bathroom floor and lost it. I had no clue who had written the message and how someone had infiltrated my space since the alarm had been on all day but there it was. I was so tired, alone and scared all I could do was sob. I slowly came back to myself when snot ran into my mouth, I was gulping for air, and tears were dripping off my chin, soaking the front of my shirt. I didn’t know how long I had been there, on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, but judging from the wettness of my shirt it had been not a short time. I slowly got up, my legs aching from sitting for so long. My hiney felt numb from the harsh chair of tile. I grabbed a washcloth and removed the message from the mirror. I pulled on my pajamas and dragged my lethargic body to bed. I got under the covers, pulled kitty to my chest and closed my eyes. 

    Well, that was a letdown. She didn’t even yell at me. I feel bad that she cried so hard but geesh, I was only messing around. I don’t understand this silence. She used to yell at me all the time but now, nothing. She won’t even talk to me. How long is she going to give me the silent treatment? I know she’s upset about the crash but it wasn’t my fault. I hadn’t even been driving a week and surely one of them should have yelled at me for not seeing the stop sign. But not one person in the car said a word. I understand why she’s mad but not talking to me is really driving me crazy. I’m sorry, sis. Just talk to me. 

    I woke up the next morning, still feeling sluggish and tired. I moved slowly toward the bathroom hoping no more messages had appeared. I sure hope not because that would mean whoever wrote it was still in the house with me while I was sleeping and that spooked me a lot. Thank goodness, the mirror is clear. I breathe a sigh of relief and drag myself to the shower. As I get ready for work I look down at the end table and notice Abby’s bracelet is missing. Oh, no, did whoever wrote on the mirror take it? Maybe in the frenzy of finding kitty I knocked it down? I frantically look under the bed and under the night table but I can’t find it. Now I’m really freaking out. Someone is messing with me and scaring me but who? 

    I wander into Jennifers room and she’s on her knees looking under the bed. I don’t know what she lost but she looks upset she can’t find it. I watch her for a minute and then go downstairs. I see her purse and keys on the kitchen counter and I think I should hide them so she can’t get to work on time and maybe then she’ll talk to me. I grab her purse and put it in the dishwasher. I put her keys in the refrigerator. Maybe that will get a laugh out of her. If I can just make her laugh I can get her talking to me again. 

    I still can’t find the bracelet and I’m going to be late for work again so I hurry downstairs. I look for my purse but can’t find it. I swore I put my keys and purse on the counter last night when I came in. I search the kitchen and then run out to the car because I must have left it in there. I’m getting so scatterbrained lately, I can’t keep up with anything. I’m constantly finding things in spots I was sure I didn’t leave them. I still can’t find them. Oh, crap. If I’m late again I will probably get fired. My boss has been trying to cut me some slack since the accident but I know she’s getting tired of my tardiness and lack of focus. I can’t help it. I’m trying hard to keep it together. I open the refrigetator to grab a water – what the hell? Why are my keys in the refrigerator? Oh, god, I’m losing it. I don’t even remember opening the refrigerator last night. My purse, however, is not in there and nowhere to be found. I grab a water and decide I’ll just have to manage without my purse for today. 

    I hear Jennifer leave and she still hasn’t said a word. I’m getting so mad at her. How long is she not going to talk to me? Mom and Dad have been gone nearly a month and she hasn’t said one word. I can’t stand this anymore. I know I shouldn’t be angry but the silence is killing me. The more I think about it the angrier I get until I’m filled with rage. I grab Jennifer’s purse from the dishwasher and fling it across the room. I then start flinging the dishes right behind it. The more the glasses shatter the more I feel relief. Pretty soon I grab more dishes from the cupboard and fling those too. This feels so good. Finally, an outlet for my frustation. I keep pitching plates like I’m playing for the Dodgers. Pretty soon the cupboard is empty and I start on the next one. I keep going until I am exhausted. Sinking to the floor I look around and see the mess I’ve made. Jennifer is going to kill me. 

    I get home late. I had to work an extra half shift because the twit that was supposed to work the evening shift had to come in late because she had to get her manicure fixed. Doesn’t anyone have any work ethic anymore? As I enter the kitchen the first thing I see is my purse laying in the doorway between the kitchen and mud room. It’s laying right in the middle of the doorway where I definitely would have seen it this morning. I grab the purse and enter the kitchen, where I stop dead. The entire kitchen is a complete disaster. Broken glass everywhere. Someone has taken every dish out of the cupboards and smashed it on the kitchen floor. Somene has been in the house again. What is going on? I should be scared but looking around I’m just angry. Mom’s best dishes are shattered and the mess is going to take forever to clean up. If I ever find out who made this mess I’m going to kill them.