Walking up the stairs I realize that Cassanda's door is open slightly, a thin band of gold light cutting across the 70's pile carpet and running up the beige wall.

I also realize that the room is very quiet, the only sound the ticking of the micky mouse clock she's had since she was eight. I tiptoe to the door, listening, wondering what I will find if I go in this time.

Cassandra has only been home for a week or two, but we'd already found a dead chicken under her bed, the ashes from small fires all over the yard, and a new and delightful habit of randomly keening and rolling her eyes back in her head. All in all it was completely creepy and I voted to have her out of the house as soon as possible, older sister or not.

Mom and Dad won't hear of it though; first they said it was just a phase; then when scabs started showing up on her arms they took her to a hospital. The doctors said nothing was wrong; so then mom and dad asked a priest to come and do an exorcisim after they caught her naked in the rain, waist deep in creek shrieking to herself and thrashing all over the place. The priest kept asking her if Cassandra was in there, and kept sprinking her with holy water. Cassandra would calmly wipe the drops of water off her cheeks, gently push down the crucifix under her nose and reply that she was fine; no demons, no medical problems. As far as Cassandra was concerned she was not schizophrenic, she was not possesed, she was not delusional; she was just fine.

That's why I think it's all an act - if it comes and goes that fast - and only when she was alone? Well for sisters we never speak- she's weird and I'm popluar so what would we have to talk about? But I still hate it that she ever gets any attention at all, especailly if she's just pretending.

Mom and Dad believe she needs serious help. I told them my idea of serious help ment sending her to college and letting her figure things out at a frat party but they didn't listen to me. So they sent her away to a 'center' (aka the looney bin in my 16 year old opinion) for six months, but the only thing that happened was Cassandra latched on to this one lady and kept telling her to get out, that she was going to die if she didn't leave the center. That wasn't weird enough though so they sent her home. The lady did die, but it was becasue she tripped on a broom or something and broke her neck on the stairs; not exactly wierd voodo type stuff.

I personally think that my older sister is smart enough to realize that she isn't that pretty, she isn't talented and she has no friends. She has been pretty much invisible until her period and then she started having her 'fits' which is my evidence for it all being an act; she couldn't stand her little sister getting all the glory, so she had to find something to make people notice her.

In fact, thinking about it pisses me off but noramlly all my yelling does is convince my parents that I need more shop therapy, or a day with just them, but they never get rid of the weirdo - who is nineteen and should be in college anway.

But mom and dad aren't home and I am sick of her crap. I have my hand on the door ready to tell her to knock it off for good; when she starts talking to herself.

"It isn't going well."

"Paitence. You need a teacher." Whoa - not talking to herself. This voice was completely not my sisters, it sounded like an older guy. This was big - my sister never so much as even looks at guys, and mom and dad are really strict about boys in the house if they aren't home. I hunkered down more to listen; maybe I could use this to get rid of her.

"There is no one to teach me. I've lived with the visions for years, no one listens, and no one beleives. This is not your time. I wan't you take them away." She sounded a little desperate, and tired; she always sounded tired.

"You do not have a choice. You must learn."

"I can't keep doing this, everyone thinks I'm crazy. What good is it if no one believes?"

"Make them beleive."

Something crashed against the wall making me jump,"I can't! I've tried everything! Things even my parents and my sister don't know, and now . . " she stopped, breathing heavily. This was really weird, but if she'd been up to something . . . . I peeked around the corner, but all I could see was her back as she was facing the window, and a fractured black piece of plastic that must have been her clock bathed in thick golden light.
Wait a minute . . .I duck back to look out the end of the hall window, gray and raining; I looked back in her room, nothing but pure golden light.

I push the door open and the light drains away, leaving her room dull and gray, just her white face with her ridiculous curly brown hair standing on end.

I toss my hair over my shoulder, hoping the goosbumps on my arm didn't show up too much, "What are you doing? Who were you talking to? And where the hell was all that light coming from?"
She just looks at me, so I try again, "Look, I heard voices and if there's no one here and you're being weird again I want you to know i'm sick of it."

Cassandra shakes her head and sits on the edge of her bed. I keep sneaking glances at the window but it looks perfectly ordinary. "Well?"

"Look Helen, I think you should go. You won't have to deal with me much longer."

"You're going somewhere?" I crossed my arms, mentally crossing my fingers.

"No," she looked straight at me, and I felt like i'd been pinned to the wall, "But you will. You're going somewhere that you won't ever come back from."

I felt like slamming the door in her face; I hated it when she dragged me into her delusions. Her eyes were full of shadows, actual shadows that moved and swirled around and even though I didn't beleive what I was seeing I knew it was real.

"Whatever. I don't believe you."

"I know," she said, and her lip trembled. Jesus she was trying to cry on me.

I left slamming the door, showing her the theatrics certainly weren't going to work on me.

"Helen?"

I whipped around, ready to start a screaming match but she was bathed in that light again, and I could see the old scars on her arm standing out like silver stamps. The window behind her was still filled with grey rain.

"What?" I snapped.

"Go the doctor."

"Why? I'm fine."

Cassandra swallowed, "No, you're not. You fell two weeks ago, and you,"

I snorted to cut her off, "You think I need to go the doctor because I tripped on a piece of wet plastic and fell on the sidewalk? You are delusional."

"I know it's not gone yet." she said quitely, looking down, the light on her hair picking up shreds of silver.

"What? What isn't gone yet?"

She looked up at me, and I had that pinned to the wall sensation again, but all she said was, "You know." and she turned around and closed the door, taking the light with her.

I shook myself and walked down the stairs to the kitchen,
unconciously rubbing the bruises at the base of my spine that refused to go away.

It was just a couple of bad bruises, I wasn't going anywhere; she was a freak, and I didn't beleive her.

I was fine.

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