The Writers' Circle

MY SISTER SARAH
By Ian Hawley



John watched as his younger sister did her homework. It was quite enjoyable to watch her working hard, and it meant she wasn't causing trouble elsewhere in the house. It wasn't that she was naughty, more. different. His mother had explained it to him a few days after her third Birthday.
    "Sarah is." his mother searched for the right word. "special."
    "Special?" his eyes glinted. "like Spiderman?" he liked the idea that she had a secret identity.
    "No. Not like that" she shook her head smiling. "Sarah had a complication when she was born, it was only slight but it's made her a little more particular than other people."
    He turned to look at her as she sat in front of the TV. Her strawberry blonde hair dropped to her shoulders and she rocked quietly to herself as she hummed a gentle tune. To all intent she was a normal little girl, but that was easy to change. 
    "So why did she attack me like that?" he rubbed his arm where she had pinched him not a minute before, and he was still shocked at the speed it had happened and the speed she had reverted to her normal quiet self.
    "What did you do?" she asked, not unkindly and she continued before he could answer. "What you did was move something in her world. She'd set those blocks up in a certain way that made her happy, and you moved one."
    "But they are mine." He frowned. "I should be allowed to play with them when I want to."
    "I know, John." She sighed as she looked at him. "You're a good boy, and it wasn't your fault, but you need to learn to give her a certain amount of room. Do you remember Grandma Betties dog?" she rubbed his arm for him as she spoke. "How it used to bark when you tried to take food from it?"
    He nodded, the little poodle had been so soft and quiet until that point and he had been afraid of it ever after. 
    "So she's like a Dog?" It didn't seem right as he said it, she didn't look like a dog and she certainly went to the toilet properly.
    "No silly." she laughed. "But the same thing happens with Sarah. Have you noticed how she likes to line everything up in a certain way? How she likes her books to be in a certain pattern? Well, when you move something that she has set up, she gets a little angry, like Grandma Betties Dog."
    "So I should just keep out of her way then?" John was getting confused with the idea his sister was a dog.
    "No." his Mother shook her head. "You should still be yourself around her, but just watch out for the little things. Once she's moved onto something else, there isn't normally an issue."

He had nodded to her back then, though he didn't really understand. Now though, the idea of someone being an Obsessive Compulsive was a lot more understood. Most people had a little of it, but Sarah had it by the bag full. John had tried to do what his mother had asked, to keep a respectful distance from her things, and not to do stuff in front of her that might upset her. He'd asked her when she was ten why she did it, why it bothered her so much when things weren't how she set them out to be.
   "You wouldn't understand." Sarah shook her head "or you'll laugh."
   "I wont, I promise" John sat down next to her on the bed. "Really I wont."
   She looked at him for a moment before signing. "Promise?"
   "Promise." he nodded "Cross my heart and hope to..."
   "No, stop. Don't promise that." Sarah looked at him in shock. "You should never promise anything like that. Never."
   "Okay" she looked upset at the thought of what he was going to say so he pulled back. "I just promise then. So why does it bother you?"
   "Something bad will happen if I don't do it." Sarah blurted out.
   "What? What will happen?"
   "I don't know, I'm just too afraid to stop in case something does. If I see something that doesnt look right I have to change it. Imagine if something happened to Mother because I didnt."
    So as he grew up with her and her ways, his understanding of her condition developed, and a deep desire to mess with them began. 

He'd started small in the beginning. He'd sneak into her room and move something. It started with just the single position of a book on her bookshelf, she'd noticed straight away of course and shout at him after she'd changed in back, but over time, after he'd done it over and over, she'd stopped getting so upset about it, and eventually left it as it was once she realised there wasn't anything bad going to happen.
    He'd moved onto other things after than, he'd sharpen one of her colouring pencils so it wasn't the same height as the others, and smile as she'd quickly sharpened the rest down to match its size. But that too has stopped over time, and she didn't get as angry at all anymore when he messed. Little by little he'd managed to reduce the urge and fears she had. Little by little she seemed to relax more, be more at ease with the imperfections she saw in the world around her and to control the urge to protect everyone. Almost all of her compulsive disorders seemed to revolved either around colour, height or weight, almost all of them anyway. There was one that he could not figure out for the life of him, and Sarah's explanation as to why she did it had been very clear, but it just didn't make any sense, it just didn't seem possible that something like that would happen if she didn't do it and he felt it was his responsibility to cure her. 

So now he was finally ready to start to break the last one down and he checked his watch for one last time. It had taken him the best part of the day to get the wiring right without getting caught, but at last he'd finished. He could hear Sarah saying goodnight to his parents downstairs. 20:58 he nodded to himself. It was the same time every night. She would take 20 seconds to walk up stairs and hang her dressing gown on the door. She would shout goodnight to him in his room and switch her light on and off three times before she went to bed. Three times he repeated to himself, but not tonight. 
   Tonight he would stop her from doing the last switch. He started to giggle to himself, it was childish he knew, but he had been doing this sort of stuff for 15 years now and it was hard to stop. In the end it was helping her he reminded himself. Tonight she would only be able to switch the light off twice before he tripped the power. He heard her as she opened her door and hung her dressing gown neatly on its peg before she leaned out onto the hallway to shout to him. "Goodnight John." she called happily.
    "Night Sarah" he replied as he always did "sleep well." and he waited for the sound of the first switch.

Click, click. - One he counted
Click, click. - Two

He tripped the fuse and the power went out. Sarah screamed pitifully and he could hear his parents downstairs cursing as they knocked their drinks over as the power went off. He was in no doubt that was going to be in trouble for it, but in the morning, Sarah would feel better. He was doing it for her after all. She would understand that this was just another silly worry, she'd be fine in the morning.
   He lay back on his pillow, satisfied that he had done a good thing when a bright flash outside his window made him sit up. A deep rumbling sound filled the room, shaking his things on their shelves and he staggered to the window. Pulling his curtains open he felt his heart jump as he saw a wall of fire slowly moving towards him. It towered over the houses and the sounds of screaming could be heard on the wind. His sister's sobs reminded him of what he had done. This was his fault. Sarah has been right after all, the world would end if she didn't do it.