Storm's POV

I don't know how long I've been standing on the doorstep, staring at the house I call home. Sometimes we don't realise that home is more than the place  you live in. It can also be a place full of love, joyful memories and laughter. On the other hand, it can also be a place full of pain, miserable memories and suffering. If you think about it really carefully, there are two sides to the saying,' There's no place like home!' Usually people use this expression in a positive way, meaning that their home is probably their favourite place in the world but it could also be used in a negative way, meaning that there's no other place in the world that is so dreadful as home.

From deep inside my pocket, my phone starts to vibrate so I take it out to find someone's calling me: Mum. I accept the call before placing it to my ear to answer with a 'hello'.

"Storm, where are you? It's really late. Your Dad has just finished cooking dinner," the words rush off Mum's tongue as if she's in a competition for who can speak the fastest.

"I've just arrived on the doorstep," I partly-lie.

"Ok, I'm coming to open the door for you," she replies before ending the call hurriedly. Seconds later, the front door opens and an anxious-looking Mum is in sight.

"Where have you been, Storm? We've been worried!" she exclaims and her arms open wide for a hug but I dodge it. I have an excellent memory but I can't remember the last time either of my parents gave me a hug or even attempted to so it would feel awkward to embrace affectionately as if it's normal for the two of us(however, I bet it's normal for any other mother and daughter). Mum has been really loving and caring towards me since...oh wait, how could I forget to tell you?

What a storyteller I am; I definitely know for sure that I'm better at acting out a story rather than telling it! When River had gone Christmas shopping and I had discovered what she had been up to, I told her that she either tells me or Mum and Dad. What she didn't know was that even if she chose to confess to me, I would still make her confess to our parents.

After she had finished revealing all the secrets she had kept from me, I told River that all this information will be passed on to Mum and Dad; she was petrified. Up until our parents returned home from work, she kept on begging for me to keep my mouth shut by apologising frantically and trying to persuade me why I shouldn't go through with my decision. There were tears in her eyes while she pleaded that made me experience a sharp pang of guilt.

Should I really tell Mum and Dad? Everyone deserves a second chance, don't they?

River will need all the help she can get to clean up her mistakes, I had argued with my conscience. I had told my sister that nothing she said or did would make me change my choice and I sat down on the sofa to start watching TV. On seeing she was fighting a losing battle, River sat on the other sofa while we waited for Mum and Dad to come home. Although we were both staring at the television, none of us were concentrating on what was being shown on the screen as we awaited in apprehension.

When we heard the key turn in the lock, River looked like she was about to puke and for a second I forgot all the fury I felt towards her.

"Have you had dinner?" Dad asked.

"Yes," I lied because I knew that both of us would have lost our appetite.

Dad had been oblivious to the tense atmosphere but Mum had picked up on it.

"Storm, what have you done this time?" she questioned.

"Excuse me!" I exclaimed, taken aback by her immediate assumption that I had done something wrong. Then, it hit me: River had kept what she had done so brilliantly because we all thought that she's the golden child; she would never commit such a despicable act. But she did.

"Storm, don't play innocent! You must have really done it this time because I've never seen your sister so upset," Mum is still convinced that I'm the villain and even though I was exasperated, at the same time, I was stung by her words. I have never been stung by a bee but I predict that it would hurt less than what my own mother thinks of me: the girl who's always at fault. Just as I was about to open my mouth to defend myself, River jumped in.

"Storm hasn't done anything wrong. I have and I'm really sorry," she apologised, not looking directly at either of our parents.

"What are you talking about, River?" Mum snapped like a vicious crocodile.

My sister glanced at me before starting to tell my parents every detail she had told me and the more she spoke, the graver the expressions on both of our parents' faces became. As soon as her explanation ended, River sprung from the sofa and darted up the stairs to her bedroom, where up until now, she's spent most of her time, only leaving when she needs to use the toilet, go to university, eat or drink.

"Storm! Can you stop standing there like a lemon and come and sit down?" Mum barks at me. Did I say she has been really loving and caring towards me? Correction: most of the time she tries to be loving and caring while some of the time she seems like she's exhausted of her recent tender behaviour and cracks of her usual irritation show. I take a seat at the table where Dad has served dinner: pasta bake. I don't fail to observe that there are only three plates of pasta bake set out on the table; River is not eating with us and unfortunately Mum has also noted the empty seat.

"Where's River?" she asks, her fingertips tapping the table top.

"She's not joining us for dinner," Dad informs her," She's not hungry."

"You're too weak on her, James," Mum says while standing up from her chair and walking towards the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Dad questions but he seems like he already knows the answer.

"To go knock some sense into that daughter of ours."

"Can't we just eat our dinner in peace."

"And we will once River decides to show her face."

"You can't force her to eat when she's not hungry."

"If she's not hungry, the least she can do is come down and sit with her family."

Dad just shakes his head and lets out a long, weary sigh while Mum climbs up the stairs. A few seconds after she reaches the top, there is a bold rap coming from a door of one of the room upstairs, which I'm guessing is River's.

"River!" Mum calls out.

Nothing.

"River! Open the door!" Mum orders as she tries the handle, only to find the door is locked.

No movement from the side of the door opposite to where Mum's standing.

"River, ignore me one more time-"

"Or what?" River's threatening growl startles me just as much as Dad, who is seated opposite me," You don't have as much power as you think do. In fact, you don't have any at all!"

"You should never talk to your mother like that!"

River cackles like a typical witch from a fairy tale, which is definitely not soothing for the ear, before spluttering," Stop lying to yourself: you have no idea what a true mother is!"

"You're talking rubbish!"

"No, that's your job!"

There's a stunned silence as we take in everything that has been cried out.

"What is your problem? We are trying to help you! We are trying to have your back but you're not letting us in! We are being your family!" Mum shouts with a shaky voice so it sounds like the waterworks are coming.

"Oh, so now, you are trying to help me? So now, you are being my family? Do you know what my problem is? It's too late! Where were you when I needed your help? Where were you when I needed someone to have my back?"

"Honey, I know Emily's death was hard-"

"No, you don't! You have no idea how it felt to lose someone who you thought had so much more time left! Emily was only thirteen! She only got to live for thirteen years yet other people in this world get to live until they're at least eighty! Why was she the unlucky one? Why did it have to be my best friend taken away? The person who I told all my secrets to and was always there when nobody else was. The person who was practically like another sister to me and accepted me for who I am. The person who never laughed at me but always laughed with me."

There's a pause and Mum is about to take River's silence as an opportunity to talk but she is halted.

"The aftermath of Emily's death was intense. Everyone at school was too nice to me. People I had never even talked to before would approach me and offer their condolences. Every time I was in the corridor while trying to get to my next lesson, people who were so deep in conversations with their friends would stop talking as soon as I passed by and stare at me. Their stares were only full of sympathy for the girl who had lost her best friend and even though I tried to block them out, their whispers were still audible. During lessons, I never bothered to answer any questions and the teachers didn't seem bothered by my careless attitude, my lack of work or my grades going down. Break and lunch was the time I really felt the absence of Emily. A group of classmates would invite me to spend time with them but it wasn't the same: they were only being kind to me out of pity.

There's another silence but this time Mum doesn't even attempt to argue.

"One time, I went to the toilet and as soon as I had returned to the group of girls I had started hanging out with, they stopped talking; it was quiet. It didn't take a genius to figure out that they had been gossiping about Emily and possibly had thrown me into the conversation. To get rid of the uneasiness hanging in the air, I told them that they could talk about Emily in front of me but instantly, I regretted letting those words come out of mouth. They would go on and on about what they knew about my best friend and I would feel like screaming because they knew nothing about her. I would feel like screaming at every person who offered their condolences because no matter how sorry they felt, it wouldn't bring Emily back. I would feel like screaming at every person who whispered about me because no matter how discreet they were trying to be, I could still hear them. I was suffering but my parents never noticed."

"In case you've forgotten, I had to look after your five-year-old sister, River," Mum defends herself.

"In case you've forgotten, I was the one who had to prepare Storm breakfast. I was the one who had to get her ready for school and drop her off. I was the one who had to pick her up and look after her on the weekend. So, do you have another excuse, Mum? Because I spent more time with her than you did. Oh wait, what a stupid question! You're going to tell me that you had to work to keep a roof over my head and put food on the table, right?"

Now, that River mentions it, I do remember five-year-old me always eating breakfast with my sister as company and her rushing me whenever I was taking too long to get ready. As much as I try to recover all my memories from when I was younger, none of them is Mum or Dad waiting at the school gates at the end of the day but I do remember always watching my classmates wistfully as they ran excitedly to their parents, ready to tell them all about their day. Also, the image of River sticking out like a sore thumb(because she was the only schoolgirl amongst the parents)is returning to my mind. However, for some reason, my weekends spent with my sister stand out the most to me and like a film, scenes play inside my head from my little self sat in front of TV, watching my favourite cartoons to playing games with River, who would put on crazy voices and strange accents that would make me burst into hysterics; my uncontrollable laughter would be contagious and sooner or later, she would cave in and join me. Now, after hearing my older sister express all those emotions that she kept bottled up for eight years, it really makes me ponder.

Was River laughing along with me natural? Did she actually get overwhelmed by the humour of her acting and my infectious laughter? Or was it fake? Was she just playing along as to not ruin the moment?

"So what, I'm a bad mum for wanting my children to not go to bed hungry? I do it for you, River, and your sister," Mum's weary voice attracts my attention.

"Do you know what you could have done for me instead of working all the time? Taken a weight off my shoulder by looking after Storm. The normal advice given to people who are grieving is to take time for themselves. That was impossible when I had to go to school for most of the day and spend my time after it to babysit my younger sister. There were times when I wanted to stop being responsible for Storm but the only thing that kept me going was remembering how you and Dad had forgot about me and I didn't want her to feel the way I've been feeling: abandoned!" River's shouts make the house tremble in terror.

Then, there's the sound of a malicious chuckle, increasing in volume the longer it lasts. It sounds like it's coming from Mum and I'm given the confirmation I need when it stops and she starts to sneer at River.

"Wow, when you say it like that, it seems like you actually are a good sister! But correct me if I'm mistaken: weren't you the person who went behind her back, lied to her and posted her friend's secrets on social media?"

Oh no! Mum has done it: she's found the flaw and now, she's using it to her advantage.

"I was just trying to protect her! I knew that girl was dangerous the first time she walked into our house and I was right," River argues.

"You have a funny way of protecting her!"

Dangerous? Protecting me? They're both treating Stella as if she's like one of those notorious criminals that are talked about in crime documentaries and I'm the unlucky victim.

"Dad, you need to stop this! They're tearing each other apart!"

"I'm just going to make it worse if I jump in," he tells me.

"You have a funny way of showing you love her!" River continues to confront Mum.

"So you're saying I don't?" Mum utters with so much hostility.

"Well, how can I be sure when you don't spend any time with her?"

"For goodness' sake, River, stop sounding like a broken record! All I keep on hearing from you is that apparently I work too much!"

"I'm giving you a warning. You've already lost your first daughter and it's too late to try to get me back. If you're not careful, you'll lose Storm, too, and you'll have no daughters left!"