Erica
I don’t remember my mother but I know she looked just like my big sister. And she probably loved and cared like Summer too. Because whatever compassion and kindness I had ever seen was just in my sister’s purple eyes, not in my father’s eyes. He never looked at me like he looked at my sister. When I was younger I used to envy the love he had for her, but Summer never let me think on that for long, because she was always there for me. She was like a fairy. As if God above knew I’d need someone to take care of me, to hold my hand so I wouldn’t stray from the right path and he had already sent my sister for me.
And she did hold my hand whenever I was lost. She was always there like a shadow. I knew that she knew how our father distinguished between us, that he favoured her over me. H
