Everything you need to know about me can be summed up in this sentence, “I have a real bad temper and sometimes I can go crazy.” This is the one memory--one single heartfelt memory--that I remembered on a chilly winter day.

The breeze tickled my face and bare trees shivered in the bitter cold. The cloudless sky was depressingly naked and the black winged cormorants barely made a peep. The ground was covered with a thin layer of ice that appeared a shade of burnt umber, because of the murky brown mud that lay beneath it. There was no sight of the carefree rabbits, raccoons, or grasshoppers that I was used to seeing.

I sat on my favorite wooden bench that lay right beneath a flowerless tree. This was the place where all my memories came to life. Quietly, I closed my eyes and I was drawn into this painful memory.

It was an ordinary school day in a small math classroom with a substitute teacher. The substitute teacher had just told us to get out our math homework. I couldn’t find my homework so I tapped my twin sister’s shoulder.

“Quick, pass me your homework,” I whispered quietly to my sister.

But my sister ignored me completely. I felt that I needed it, and it was urgent for me to get it out of my sister’s bag. Otherwise, it would affect my grades. Report cards were being given out tomorrow and this was my last chance to bring my horrible math grade at least up to a B+.

So, in anger and frustration, I slid out of my chair towards my sister’s binder, and searched for her math homework. Sadly, it was too late.The teacher was already by my desk glaring at me and asking me what I had been doing. I was super uneasy and I didn’t want to get into trouble. So, I casually lied and told her that I was just checking, if my sister’s bag was organized. But after I said that, I totally regretted it.

You idiot, that’s such a stupid reason! I thought, telling myself in deep outrage.

Unfortunately, the moment only grew worse. When the teacher asked my sister, she told the teacher that I had been taking out the homework from her bag. At that moment--that particular moment--I felt so angry at my sister, I could hardly breathe. Why was my sister so honest?

The next thing I knew, I had to go to the principal’s office.

The next thing I knew, my parents came in.

The next thing I knew, I had to suffer the pain of writing “I won’t lie” 500 times.

The last thing I knew, my anger rose to a point I would regret my whole life.

We had just gotten home from the day and I was yelling at my sister in agony because she had told the teacher the truth.  “You scaredy-cat!” I yelled.

“Did you see what happened?” I glowered at my sister. The living room had started to get warm, and I heard the chime bells from the kitchen ring violently and the cat from its little bed meow loudly.

My sister didn’t reply. She just stood there.

Anger rose in me, and my face turned tomato red.  

I started to grasp my hands around my sister’s legs tightly. “Stop!” screamed my sister. I had no mercy. I couldn’t help myself. My mind kept telling me to stop, but I wouldn’t. How could my sister betray me like that? Before I could stop myself, I took my sister by her bare ankles, and shoved her head towards the glass table. Glass shattered everywhere, and I felt the ground beneath my feet shake.

Ughhhhhhh! What had I done? What was wrong with me? As I dropped to the ground sobbing, I felt my soul drop.

I heard a small yelp, and then the whole room turned quiet.  My heart was already gone.

What happened next was just a blur to me. I heard my mom rushing into the room and patting my sister’s back. I remember blood pouring down from my sister’s head like water from a fountain. I remember the red spilling all over the carpet like it had been painted red. I remember my sister’s blank expressionless face looking at me in astonishment, like she couldn’t believe what I had done.

The next thing I knew, I was in a small cramped room which had a disturbing stench of sour syrup. We were in the hospital.

The dim lights above flickered every few minutes, and all of them were focused right at the center of an overwhelmingly bright ivory bed in front of me. The air was so thick and stuffy that I found it kind of hard to breathe. The suffocating smell of blood and bandages filled the room. I had a jacket on, because the air conditioning was so high.

Since everything had happened so fast, I could hardly remember anything. But when I used my senses to comprehend my surroundings and figure out exactly why I was here, the events that had happened an hour ago started flying in my head fast. My heart sank. I had struck someone I had loved for a whole lifetime, and I could do nothing to get over the thought. It felt like a needle had poked my heart. My twin sister was half of me. I couldn’t look at her. I just couldn’t.

“UHHHHHHHHH,” my sister moaned loudly.

I stood there helplessly not knowing what to do. I walked outside the room to see what was going on and saw my parents talking quietly to the doctor. My mom’s face was red and her hair was ruffled at the top of her head like a big heap of yarn. For the first time, I noticed thin gray streaks in her hair, and the soft wrinkles that had come beneath her jawline. I noticed the diminished dark circles around her eyes, and the small bulge of fat beneath her chin. She was wearing a worn out brown jacket, and these faded baggy jeans which I had never seen her wear. From her face, I could tell she had been crying for hours. I wondered if she felt the same way she had felt when her mother had almost died in a car crash.

I remember the story very clearly. When my mother was 24, my grandmother was driving to the grocery shop, while texting to a close friend. When she wasn’t looking, she crashed into a big van. In a few seconds, my grandmother was in the hospital, and she was told that she only had a few weeks to live.

My mother had cried her heart out, and she wouldn’t leave the hospital for days. But then a surgeon flew from India, and told my mother that he could save my grandmother’s life--he had a cure--even though my grandmother would be paralyzed for the rest of her life. My mother agreed instantly, and she was so happy.

I glanced at my father who had a serious face when he was looking at the doctor. I couldn’t believe that he was the same person who had saved my grandmother’s life.

I rushed to my mother and father and hugged them very hard.

“Mother, is Heather going to be fine?” I asked realizing that this would probably be one of the most momentous questions I had ever asked in my life. My mother looked down and smiled a thin, wry Mona Lisa smile, but before she could reply, the doctor answered for her.

“She has to have some stitches on her forehead, but then she will be fine,” the doctor said calmly.

“That’s good,” I replied hesitantly because I couldn’t tell if I should have been relieved or crying. I just did a really awkward smile and took the nerve to visit my sister in the hospital room.

I trudged into the room slowly and sat down on the blue chair beside my sister’s bed. My sister slowly looked up at me as if expecting a surprising response. She was right, because the first thing I did was open my mouth wide in astonishment. Her face had big red patches on it, and her eyes were huge and black. She looked almost like a vampire, as if she had just recently acted out in a horror scene. I was frightened, sorrowful, and guilt-ridden all at the same time. Suddenly, words started rolling out of my mouth fast.

“Heather, what happened to you? Are you okay? Heather tell me please….I hope you are going to be fine….Heather tell me!” I said tears rolling down my cheeks. I couldn’t stand a second of silence.

“Heather, reply. Please,” I begged, as my heart broke with displeasure. The air between us started to get heavy.

“Trianna, it’s okay, I will be fine,” my sister said quietly with a soft smile on her face. She pulled her short puffy hair over her forehead so her injury was no longer visible. Her eyes looked big and inflated, and for the first time, I noticed fright in them. As much as I thought or wanted to think that my sister was a scared cheetah some of the time, I knew that deep inside her heart, she was a brave little cheetah. Her small cheeks looked pale and her hands looked worn out. Her red shirt which had once looked bright and merry to me now just looked like a dull shade of rust (a color you would see on old furniture).

Her once strong, running legs which had won her many races, now looked like a pair of rubbery wax legs made by an unskilled doll maker. In fact, my sister’s whole body looked like a wax figure which was melting from the outside. Seeing all of this, I was melting on the inside.  l wanted to know more from my sister, like how she felt, if she was angry at me, or if she was really going to be alright. But, I knew it was best to stay calm and quiet. 

“Um...Trianna, why do you keep looking at me like that? I said I was going to be alright,” my sister chuckled. She looked at me like she was reading my mind.

“I-I hope so,” I muttered with a sad smile. At this moment, I felt like I was the scared little cheetah.

That night, my mother decided to stay with Heather, to comfort her with the stitches she got. My father came home to stay with me. I slept in my bed worrying about the stitches and how much pain my sister would have to go through.

The next morning, my father told me that the stitches had been successful, and my sister could come home again.

As soon as the doorbell rang, I ran to the door without stopping. Excitement flooded in me, and my heart thudded. My father opened the door.

I grinned. There she was. My own sister, grinning back and smiling a smile I would never forget. It was a smile mixed with deep happiness and playfulness.

“There is the happy little cheetah. How are you doing?” I told my sister laughing and patting her back. When we were little, we would always act out as cheetahs.

My sister and my mother started laughing too. I went up to hug my sister and took a glance at her forehead. I saw that it looked alright, except for a few scars.

As I hugged my sister, I felt so happy. This was a moment I would never forget in my entire life. Just the fact of knowing that my sister was alive and well, eased my mind with relief. I set aside the past and marveled over my sister’s fortunate fate. Tears of happiness started rolling down from my cheek.

“So, Trianna, have you learned anything from what you did,” my sister said slyly with a grin, interrupting the silence. My mother and father suddenly turned their eyes directly on me, and I knew my sister had purposely asked this question, at this moment. I played along.

“Ummm, I’ll try not to raise my temper up next time, but I can’t promise you anything,” I said grinning back, with a toothy smile on my face.

I slowly opened my eyes and was back to the smell of nature on my favorite bench, to the crisp feeling of the light breeze on my skin, to the taste of the cereal I had eaten for breakfast, and the sound of birds singing. Since the sun had come out, the ice had slowly started to melt. All of a sudden, the grass appeared greener than ever, the sky looked bluer than ever, and grasshoppers seemed to cricket louder than ever.
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