Free A Sister's Promise by Renita D'Silva

are an only child, like me? Why did you wipe your sister from your life? What else have you lied about?
    I hear the heavy drag of footsteps leading away—the doctor leaving, I presume—and then feel Ma’s hand on mine again.
    ‘Kushi,’ her voice comes softly. ‘I don’t know if you can hear me, sweetie, but I have missed talking to you and I will talk as if you can hear me, okay? I have to go away, just for a bit, just to the bank. We are in Palmipur hospital, the dialysis ward—you were moved here from the ICU yesterday—so it will take me some time to get to Dhoompur and back, but the nurses and doctors here are very nice and will keep an eye on you. They have been absolutely brilliant so far, Kushi, and you will be fine, sweetie, that’s a promise.’ A breath, and then, ‘I feel so terrible. This is all my fault.’
    How? How is this your fault?
    My face is cupped in the palm of Ma’s hand, her touch as comforting as warm shelter on a wet day. I feel her cinnamon-scented breath on my cheeks.
    Ma, the car . . . It came right at me, as if, as if, whoever was inside meant to harm me.
    Voicing the horror of what I experienced, even in the privacy of my own head, and the suspicion that has been lurking since my memory of what happened has returned, makes me shiver and cringe. It is unbelievable. I am making it up, surely? Why would anyone want to hurt me?
    Red letters on faded yellow fluttering beside me as I fall, just before everything fades to black . . .
    As if she’s heard what I am unable to utter out loud, Ma says, once again surprising me with her uncanny penchant for interpreting my thoughts, ‘I should have realised those threats were serious. I should have looked out for you.’
    Despite my fatigue, I am consumed by a welcome flood of rage that sends the adrenaline pulsing through my rigid body.
    ‘You are not to blame,’ I want to tell Ma, but the lethargy that pervades my body, instantly snuffing out the adrenaline, robs me of speech.
    It is so much easier to pretend to be asleep, to not have to see in my mother’s eyes what this is doing to her, to not have to clock the burden of her fear and heartache—which she will try and hide from me but which I can sense even with my eyes closed—especially when I haven’t come to terms with my own fears yet.
    ‘When I get better, I am going after the people who did this to me, and I will bring them down,’ I want to say, but I lack the conviction I had in spades not so long ago. Am I going to get better?
    Those people who did this to me have not only destroyed my kidneys, they also seem to have robbed me of my self-worth, the belief that I can do anything I set my mind to. I have always felt older than seventeen, I have always felt invincible. But now I am scared, a frightened little girl.
    I am someone I do not recognise. Someone I do not want to be.
    I am hiding behind my closed lids. It is hard enough to acknowledge my dread to myself; I do not want to see this new, fearful person I have become reflected in my mother’s eyes.
    ‘The police are looking into who did this and the villagers are on their case. Everyone in Bhoomihalli and beyond are up in arms and will not rest until they have caught and punished whoever did this to their beloved, young leader,’ Ma says, gently. ‘Kushi, the most important thing is getting you better. And you will, sweetheart,’ her voice, shaky but determined, imparts faith. ‘And don’t you go worrying your pretty head about the cost either. I am going to sell the factory. ’
    No, ma, not the factory.
    I can feel her taking a deep breath. ‘And there is something else, sweetheart. I have wanted to tell you this for a long time. But I . . .’ she gulps and then the words come out in a burning rush like the murky water that gushes from the borewell after several gurgling false starts. ‘Kushi, I have a sister. She is coming here to see you. I’m sorry I did not tell you earlier, Kushi. I . . . I meant to.