Sister Dearest

“Stop it!” Kennedy screamed at his sister, his eyes narrowing in anger.

He slammed the car door to keep the rain from ruining the interior of his brand new Lexus. He grimaced as his leather shoes suck in the mud. He started walking up the steep incline into the wind driven rain up to his and his sisters’ (Alexandria) favorite place to play as kids. She stood on the edge of that cliff and gazed, almost longingly, at the turmoil or waves below.

Now, this seems like another rich girl threatening to jump off a cliff for attention, but we all know that she won’t actually go through with it... Anyway, Kennedy started screaming at her, the anger in his eyes intensifying,

“Stop it Alexi! You don’t deserve it.”

She stared at him as he got closer, puzzled by his confusing statement. What did he mean by her not deserving it? He charged at her when he got to the top, and she assumed he meant to stop her.

She called out to him, “Ken, if you come any closer I swear to God I will jump headfirst off this cliff!”

She started getting a nervous, bad feeling in the pit of her stomach when her twin brother didn’t slow his stride.

“I swear I’ll do it...!” she called out again, her voice wavering a bit.

When it dawned on her that he wasn’t planning on slowing down, it was too late. She hastily backed away from the edge of the cliff, but not fast enough. He came up behind her and shoved he squarely in the back right off the cliff into the hands of the hungry waves below. He had a haunting smile on his face as he watched his sister fall. He sauntered back to his car and took off his shoes as to not dirty the floor carpet of his new car.

When he got home he called out to his parents, who were resting in fancy lounge chairs in front of the fire, “I took care of it.”

“Very good son.” His father’s proud voice boomed.

“MaryAnn, would you be dear as to fetch us some wine? Not the overly powerful stuff, Ken is still underage. Get the Sauvignon Blanc, in the cellar.” His mother told the help that was hovering in the doorway.

She glided into the kitchen as Kennedy settled in the plush burgundy arm chair to the left of his father. MaryAnn came back moments later, balancing a tray with three wine glasses and the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. She set it down on the round, purely glass table in the middle of them and poured gracious glasses of wine. Mrs. Burwell dismissed her with a wave of her hand and MaryAnn disappeared into the depths of the mansion. Kennedy’s mom patted her bright red curls and asked him if all was completely delt with. He gave his mom a curt nod and told her that next week he will take care of MaryAnn.

“Why are you going to take care of her too?” Mr. Burwell asked his son.

“She was there. I saw her listening at the door last week when we planned it.”

“Alright, but she was my favorite help. With this one can you be quick, unlike that last one, Jeffery?”

“Fine I guess.” He replied.

Then his father plunged into another fable about life at sea.

Kennedy thought to himself, “That’s what you get, sister dearest.”