âMmmmm,â said Helena, looking up from the bottle of amber liquid she was dumping down the kitchen sinkâs drain. She squinted at the label. Jack Daniels it said. âWhen you are sober.â She crossed to the trash can, opened it, and dropped the bottle onto the pile already there, closing the lid with a loud clank. âYou will thank me.âÂ
Padding back into the living room, she stood before her sister. âUp,â said Helena, in her best do not argue with me voice. Sarah was not mended and nobody else seemed inclined to want to mend her. At least, not the way she needed. Sarah was tough. She did not need to be babied, but Helena was the only one who thought this.Â
So. She had come over to Mrs, Sâs house and had started dumping all the alcohol she could find down the kitchen sink. Probably, that was what made Sarah say what she did. That was alright though. Helena did not mind. Well, a part of her did, because it was Sarah, but also it wasnât. It was sad-mad Sarah, who was also not-Sarah, not the real one, so. It was easy to ignore the words.Â
âDo not make me carry you upstairs like little baby,â said Helena and waited for her sister to do as she was told.Â