In hindsight, there were glaring signs that I should have been more in tune to. She started hanging out with a degenerate looking group of people and quit most of her after school activities. She started staying out later and later on weeknights, and any time she spent at home she locked herself away in her room. I could have told my parents that I knew what was going on with her, but I was afraid. I was afraid that if I told them what was going on, it would become reality and no longer just a nightmare in my head. I thought that a good sister would let this run its course and not intervene. So I didn't. I said nothing to my ignorant parents as she walked through life in a drug induced haze, and I said nothing as she stood by the door with her bags packed on that cold spring day, ready to run away from her life. My parents told me there is nothing I could have done to change her mind that day, but I can't help but think that a heartfelt plea from her best friend would have stopped her.

The next time I saw her it was early July, nearly four months later. In her absence, my life had started to fall apart. I lost the only true friend I had at the time and had spontaneously become the primary caretaker of the family. I gave up on school and started to let my grades slip. Neither of my parents knew how to react to losing a child, so they both shut down. My mom was no longer concerned with feeding her children nor herself, so I started packing me and my brother lunches and I learned how to cook quick little meal for us to eat for dinner. My dad started taking overtime shifts on a daily basis so he could focus his emotions into work instead of family. In both of my parents depression, I had to become self sufficient. I started to go food shopping with my mom so that I could secure the necessary microwavable meals to ensure me and my brother could eat at night. The day we went to see my sister, however, was different. It seemed as if life was coming back together. My dad took off from work and my mom didn't spend most of the day crying. Instead, it was a hopeful day. Briana called us from a halfway house in Philly saying that she was ready to get clean and she wanted to see us. She told us to bring the clothes she did not pack and some money, because she was going to be in the halfway house for a long time and she needed to pay rent. When I finally got to see her, it felt very strange. Her face, in just those four months, had started to sink and look worn and her personality was no longer there. She noticed the same thing about me, saying it looked as if I had grown older. I guess being forced to grow up warps your appearance as much as drug use does. We exchanged what I now refer to now as the "addict pleasantries", which are all of the cheesy phrases like: "We are here for you," and "I'm going to get better for you guys," ect. It was only a couple hours after we left the halfway house that day when we got a call from her recovery sponsor. She had ran away with her clothes and money and had stolen from the rest of her housemates.

I was not happy for a long time after that day. Hope is both powerful and destructive. My mind knew that she was never going to get better, but my heart kept hope that she would one day come back and be the same older sister I looked up to for all my life. Every call from her, every letter, every addict pleasantry would give me hope, only to have said hope crush my spirit every time she let me down. I had a fateful encounter that summer that saved me from myself. One of my mom's friends had a daughter my age named Shelly, and they invited us to a dinner to let us know that they would help us through this. Shelly and I talked about boys, movies, books, and most importantly, our plans for school. I found out that she was taking AP chemistry, a course my guidance counselor forced me into despite my apathy for school at the time. I suggested that we form a study group outside of school to study for this class. I told her it was because the class was apparently really tough, but my motives were because I needed friends desperately. I thought it would be a good little thing to help me get through school, little did I know this study group would change the course of my life from then on out.

It was Christmas time and my dad gave me the news that Briana was getting out of rehab the week before that and she was going to join us for Christmas dinner. On the outside, I joined my brother and mom in a chorus of pleas to stop her from coming. My mom did not trust my sister after she stole her jewelry when she left over almost a year ago. On the inside, however, I was brimming with joy that I would get to see her after nearly 6 months of not seeing her. My dad told us it was necessary that she come, because this was probably my sickly grandfathers last Christmas and it was his wish to see her one last time. I was up in my room when she came in through the front door. I had tons of news to share with her. I had made new friends and had taken over her small fish tank and made it look very clean and natural. Before I could go down to see her, one of the cats ran into my room and hid under my bed. She normally runs away when strangers come into the house because she is very skittish, but Briana was not a stranger. I began to wonder if the tiny little black and white cat had forgotten about her after all this time, or maybe it was mad at her for leaving. It was my sisters cat after all, who would sleep on her lap as she watched TV and watch her as she did her makeup. Sometimes I see her sleeping on my sisters bed, as if she is waiting for Briana to come in and lightly warm her up with a blow-dryer. By the time I had gotten up the confidence to go downstairs and see my sister, she had already left. She greeted my parents, promptly asked for money, was told no, and left.

That Spring I asked my parents for a fish tank. Not just any old dinky fish tank, but a massive one that could be the centerpiece of a room. I had grown attached to the little fish tank my sister left behind, and I felt extremely limited in creativity and fish diversity by the small size of the fish tank. After much bothering, my parents finally gave in. My grades were excellent and been working hard at making friends and at school. That, and they felt guilty for the year they had neglected me. Me and my dad went to the local fish store and picked up a giant 55 gallon fish tank and stand that we placed in our living room. My dad helped me through all the triumphs and tragedies that comes with owning a fish tank so big. He helped me stock the tank, clean it on a regular basis, and helped me fight through the periodic plagues and diseases that haunt newly established fish tanks. My mom helped me decorate the tank and name the fish. It was the first time our family was coming together in nearly a year and it felt great. My dad stopped working on days he was supposed to have off so he could help me maintain the fish tank, and my mom started to cook again.

I decided to not see my sister the next time I had the opportunity to see her. It was the beginning of my 11th grade year and she had gotten very sick. She overdosed and when she awoke in the hospital she had a bad case of pneumonia, in addition to being severely malnourished. My parents bothered me about seeing her. They told me that I had to support her and be there for her when she needs us, but I could not do it. I had spent the past two years living from call to call from her, putting my life on hold so that I could escape in my dreams back to when life was easier. But for the first time, my future looked brighter than my past. Instead of looking back on the life that I used to have, I looked forward on what I could do. I was at the top of my class and had just aced all my AP exams for the past year. I realized that I could go to college and I could have a life in the future. My dreams stopped taking me to the past but instead they teleported me into the future. If I went to see her that day in the hospital, it would have ruined everything. She had become just a memory, and seeing the warped memory would suck me back into the cycle of hope and destruction. I spoke for both me and my brother that day, and told my parents that we were done dealing with her until she started to help herself.

My 11th grade year was the first year where I was at peace. My sister had run away from the hospital as soon as she could and disappeared back into her debilitating lifestyle. I did not have to hear from her at all and my parents were finally starting to be parents again. I could finally focus on myself and go back to acting like a normal teenager and doing normal teenager things. I had not completely forgotten about my sister. Every so often I would ask my parents how she was doing. Most of the time they would not know either, but when they did have news for me it was generally not good. It might seem grim, but I started to realize that she might just be better off dead than alive. I'm not saying I was wishing death upon her I'm just saying that I had already come to terms with her death and started the grieving process long before she would actually die, because the current path she was on would inevitably lead her to it sooner than most people. So the rest of my school year proceeded with very little disruption from my estranged sister.

It was the summer of my 11th grade year when I had the opportunity to see my sister again. I had almost shed all of the weight I gained from eating all those unhealthy microwavable meals, and I had made it to the top of my class from all my schoolwork. I was not mad at her for abandoning me anymore, because now I had a network of friends I could rely on and hang out with that I met from chemistry class. She decided she was tired of running, as there were multiple warrants out for her arrest all relating to stealing. I decided that now, more than ever, she would need to know that her younger sister was on her side. My parents picked her up at some shady location in Philly, and drove her back home to get her some food. When she showed up, I immediately gave her a hug and let her know how proud I was that she wanted to change. I showed her the beautiful Amazon based fish tank, but she did not really care. She wanted to see the cats, but one was outside and the tiny black and white one hid under my bed. I ran upstairs to my room, and I saw her under my bed. She wasn't ready to accept her yet. To my surprise and joy, Briana actually went through with her plans. My parents brought her to the courthouse and after her trial, she was sentenced to jail for what would be the rest of the summer. With her in jail, my mind could finally be at ease that she was not suffering somewhere, and that she was finally getting the firm attention and order she needed to recover.

By the time I started my senior year, she had gotten out of jail and had proceeded to start three months of rehab. I knew that my old dream of her coming back home and being a family again was long ago unobtainable, but I still had hope that she could get her act together and maybe have a real life of her own. My life was certainly starting to come together for me. I had attained a fairly competitive class rank, worked in Crozier as a volunteer, and gotten the Presidential gold service award. I saw the opportunities of a myriad of colleges open up to me due to how hard I worked both in and out of school. I had grown from a shy, pudgy kid with no direction in life into a beautiful and confident young woman with a strong sense of self. In a sense, Briana running away was one of the better things to happen in my life. It inadvertently activated some inner strength within me and made me develop into a better person than I would have if this had all never happened. Looking at my younger brother, I realized he too had benefited from this situation. He joined several sport teams to channel his anger, and in doing so he grew more confident in himself. Where I had excelled in school, he excelled in sports. He used to be my younger, much smaller brother, but now he looms over me and is not afraid to voice his opinion. Life was certainly more innocent and simpler before all of the chaos happened, but after everything I struggle to actually find any lingering negative consequences in either me or my brother.

It was Christmas time again, and this time my sister had gone through a month in jail and three months in rehab program. She promised me that she would stay clean and make it to Christmas this year. I was fairly excited because she seemed genuinely ready to get clean this time, even though this would be the dozenth time she claimed to be ready. I did not get too absorbed in the hope though, I had learned by then to withhold some of yourself so that you don't get hurt too bad when you get let down. It did not take her too long to let me down though, because a couple weeks before Christmas she got sent back to jail for breaking parole by being picked up for drug possession. I was still hurt, but I had other things to look forward to that Christmas season. Me and my friends were going to get together and have one last Christmas party before we all leave for college. Sometimes I feel a little guilty about leaving for college, because I will be doing the same thing to my parents Briana did. But I have to worry about myself more, and I know my parents will understand.

Last week she called for the first time since she ran away from her rehab. She was in jail and she wanted to talk to me. I told her that I was going to college and graduating real soon, and she started crying. For the first time in three years, I heard a part of her that I thought had died long ago. She apologized for missing so much of my life, and I finally forgave her. She asked if she could see me one last time before I went away to college, but I had to decline. Forgiveness was for myself, not for her. There comes a certain point where you need to wash your hands of a situation and stop worrying about what happens. Whether she gets better or not is out of my hands, and I need to protect my own feelings from getting hurt. When she is out of jail, clean for a significant period of time, and ready to be an older sister again, I will be waiting. Until then, I am off for college.