Bridget and I usually get on quite well despite the fact I find her insufferable at times. I get that as my older sister she's looking out for me, but it gets annoying, especially on days like today. Absolutely nothing was going my way, and it was infuriating.

"Hartley you can't hand in an assignment that looks like that." Bridget chides shaking her head as she analyses my work. "Then you do it," I grumble closing my laptop. I was never good at assignments anyway; Bridget was the smart one. The only one my mother would ever talk about in a conversation. I was the artsy reject as far as she was concerned.

Bridget unfortunately was also very, very, good at telling when something was wrong. She'd give you the look.

That look.

"What's wrong?" she asks settling onto my bed. Here we go. "Nothing." I reply plainly, "It's not nothing, what is it?" she continues to pry. God she is just adding to it right now. "I said it was nothing Bridget." I reply sharply. She throws her hands up in surrender at my sharp tone, "Alright, if you say so." I can feel her watching me as I grab my headset and phone. Music. Music is one of the few things I just can't live without, I will go insane if I can't listen to it throughout the week.

Bridget shakes her head, "You can't always use music as a way to get away from your problems, you need to accept that this is stressful you're about to hand in your first assignment to an art school, this is-" "I know." I snap glaring at her "Just because you're the one who's gotten the best results, and all doesn't mean you can tell me what I already know. It's the last thing I need you to do." I add putting my headset on and picking a track to listen to.

I looked up and for a second I swear I saw a twinge of hurt on her face. I was too harsh, did I hurt her? "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair." I say softly, "No, Hartley you have a fair point." She forces a smile. "I'm not your mom and it's definitely not my place to be pressuring you about your coursework."

I watch her quietly as she pats me on the shoulder heading towards the door without another word. "Sleep tight, and don't let the bed bugs bite." She smiles this time it's not as forced. "I'll bite them back." I add with a little laugh. And with that she left closing the door behind her. Even when I was in a bad mood, she will always find a way to make me laugh.

I slumped onto my bed with my headset on blasting music. 2010 was most definitely the best decade of music. I lie on my stomach and begin to sketch. I decided to scribble all over the page before analyzing the mess of lines and finding a picture in between the lines I could work off. It looked like a little bird, as I slowly settled on the shapes, I saw I began to highlight those lines making them more prominent and visible. By the time I had moved onto shading about two hours had passed. I stopped, took a step back and looked at my art. It doesn't look right. The little voice in my head chirps, for the umpteenth time today I'd done something wrong again.

I hear a car start outside and unravel myself from my blankets peering out the window. Bridget was going out. On a weeknight? Interesting. Bridget wasn't one to leave the house during the week. I shook my head pushing my thoughts to the side, retreating to the bundle of blankets on my bed tearing out the page, and begin to crumple up the drawing tossing it to the side and repeating my earlier process.

Another few hours pass, and I finally have an acceptable sketch. But that's all it is. Acceptable. I sigh and shut my sketchbook. Drawing was exhausting but I loved it, there was a sort of peacefulness I got from it. I place the book on the bedside table and wrap myself up in the blankets. Mom absolutely hates that I am not driven to get a degree at a prestigious university and a high-paying job like Bridget. But the truth is I've seen how hard they both are on her, I know they mean well too but I don't want that kind of pressure on me daily. She's stronger than me I won't deny it, she shoulders a lot more than I could and I know I don't tell her that enough either. it's hard to. My throat always gets painfully tight when I try.

I roll onto my side with a huff. I won't admit it out loud, but I don't know what I would do without her. I feel my eyes growing heavy and slowly closing. Despite the times we absolutely hate each other's guts, we wouldn't change it for the world... well at least I know I wouldn't change it.

Groggily I woke up from my sleep, there was talking downstairs in the dining room. It was hushed, I ignored it and got ready to head to campus like every other day. I opened my curtains to find Bridget's parking empty. Did I hurt her feelings last night? Had Mom and Dad already been hard on her yesterday? Bridget never stayed out. I picked up my phone and texted her.

Me: Hey sis, I wanted to apologize for snapping at you like that last night. It wasn't fair and I noticed you haven't come home from wherever you went last night. I'm sorry.

I leave it at that pressing send and turning my phone off. I really did hurt her feelings; I know she's able to handle the pressure and constant criticism from Mom and Dad, but I've never pushed her on those days. Was she having a tough day yesterday? The thought popped into my head. I changed my clothes and tied up my hair in a messy bun before grabbing my bag and making my way down the stairs to the kitchen.

"What was school like for Bridget?" an unfamiliar voice asked. "She was amazing, almost always top of her class." My mother says proudly but there was something else behind it. Something wasn't right. I finally entered the kitchen and froze. The three adults almost immediately turned to me.

My stomach dropped. The man who sat across from my parents was in police uniform. Did something happen to Bridget? Is she missing? Was her car stolen? A multitude of scenarios flooded my mind. "Hartley. Take a seat love." "What?" I ask stupidly withdrawing from my thoughts.

"Sit down." Mom orders, I obey feeling unsettled everyone is eerily silent. "What's happened?" I ask "Is it Bridget? Was her car stolen? Is she not answering texts?" I ask in quick succession. The officer gives me a sympathetic look. "This is her sister?" the man asks. Why was no one answering me? "Yes." My mother answered almost as if she didn't want me to be. "Answer me Damnit!" I snap my hands forming a fist. My mother gives me a stern glare in response to my outburst. I ignored it the scowl on my face deepening.

My father sits with his face in his hands. He was never like this. Can someone answer me? The officer turns to me that same sympathetic look on his face. "Your sister has been in a car accident." I feel my stomach practically drop "What?" my throat tightens "Is she okay?" a muscle in the officer's jaw feathers, "With the speed that she crashed at-" the officer swallows thickly. "She didn't make it." I mumble barely hearing the rest of his sentence. It wasn't a question. I knew it.

Author note: Wooo! chapter one how about that? are you ready for chapter two? I am lowkey scared of publishing my work @~@