Steps in the right direction matter. Steps in the wrong direction matter. Whether it’s in the right or the wrong, they’ll all have some sort of impact on your life. Every little thing leaves a boot print on the sand that you call your life. This is a story about my favorite step; the step that changed my life; the step that changed me: my step-sister.
Kristine was the smartest kid in her class. She was fifteen and in the 11th grade. Her hair was long and brown like on the bark of a tree, and her eyes were an amazing hazel color. All in all, she is one of the most amazing people I’ve come to know. Ever.
While I was watching a movie I got a phone call from an unknown number. It was a little scary but I answered the phone anyways. I can’t remember his exact words but he was telling me about how this girl was in a wreck on a bridge and how her parents died, and how she was an only child, and I asked what the whole point of the call was for. He said in a hushed tone that I had a step sister and that she was in the wreck.
I froze. I had no clue what was going on and I wasn’t sure how to react, but then the man continued on about how it happened, and then explained to me how I was related to this girl. Apparently when I was about Seven and a half years old, my dad and another woman got married. Her mom had an affair with another man. When I was eight, I had a baby sister. By then my dad had already left the woman, but the papers confirming a divorce weren’t exactly ever signed. We moved out of state and into Berkeley, California while baby Kristine was being born in Jackson, Mississippi. When he finished explaining everything, I said it was okay for her to stay with me for a while, and then the man said she would be ready in a few days.
My dad had never mentioned anything about a sister before. I don’t know if it was a secret that I couldn’t handle or if he was protecting me from her but I was livid beyond words. I thought of calling him but soon remembering that he wouldn’t have cared. She wasn’t his daughter.
After about ten minutes of contemplating life, I made my way towards the hospital and thought it would be nice if I got her sonic. Everyone loves Mozzarella cheese sticks but I’ll throw in tader-tots.
I went to the reception desk and asked for Krystine. My heart was pounding so loud I was surprised the nurse didn’t come treat me for cardiac arrest. The nurse pointed at the chair in the corner where she sat. She had on a pair of jeggings, Bearpaw boots, and a darker flannel button up. Her hair was simply strait, but it curtained her face as she scrolled through her music. Whereas I’m wearing a pair of baggy jeans, grey and white striped t shirt and my black hair gelled and curved upwards.
Kristine looked at me funny for a second, and then walked over to me with a piece of paper in her hand. It looked like a picture of someone. From what I could see, it looked like me. She asked my name and I said it was Dylan. Then she asked my last name noticed the Sonic in my hand. She looked at me for a few awkward seconds as an older man approached us from behind Kristine. I’m guessing it was the man on the phone.
“Take care of her,” is all he said before vanishing. Kristine, who didn’t seem to notice the man,  took the tater-tots and the mozzarella sticks and went to the truck. Honest to say, I’m surprised she even knew which one was mine.
  After we went home and got all of her things into her room, she just stands there waiting on me to do something. I didn’t know what to do so I gave her a genuine smile and invited her to sit on the couch and watch the game with me. All she did was roll her eyes and plop down on the couch.
  It was like that for a few months. I decided to talk to her. She’s only fifteen, what damage could she do? I walked up to her. My  words were more of a demand than an offer and I think I scared her a little at first but only did that to get my point across.
  “What do you suggest I do? There’s nothing to do around here,”she replied. After I didn’t answer, she got up and went to the computer. She was typing so fast it’s as if she was speaking to it in some secret code that she and the computer are the only ones that know.
“Let’s go to the movies,” she says, taking me out of her finger trance. I haven’t thought about the movies in years. Without a word, she got her jacket and her wallet and motioned for me to grab the keys and my wallet. So without question I picked out my grey Columbia jacket, my phone, wallet, car keys, locked the door, and we were off.
I had no idea what I wanted to see or what she wanted to see but all she said was to go to the movie theaters, and I didn’t question it. We got there and there were hardly any more that 100 people there, and it was a huge theater. It surprised me a little bit but not very much. We walked inside and Kristine got Reese's, and a medium Dr. Pepper. I got myself Nacho’s, sour patch kids, and a large Pepsi. We got our tickets for the movie Looking for alaska, and sat down in the 5th row. I would’ve sat further but it was where Kristine wanted to sit so I let it be.
When the movie was over we decided that we weren’t done having fun, but what is there to do at 2:00 on a Sunday? She said she was in the mood for painting. I don’t know anything about painting so I said that she could paint and I’d watch. Then I smirked a little smile.
Then she said, “Nope. You have to paint.”
“Why,” I asked, and she said that it was my money, so then me being the jerk I am suggested that she pay for it and so she turned the gas off and she dragged me inside, where she painted an amazing picture of an elephant. Then there was my amazing painting of a meatball. I still have the meatball painting.
Later on in the week, she started to lighten up.While I was making spaghetti, she looked at me, and told me to come watch T.V. with her. While we were watching, I completely forgot about the spaghetti, so in the mix of cooking spaghetti and us laughing, the spaghetti was burned beyond recognition. She laughed at me and pointed out that I obviously should’ve checked on it during commercials. I had no argument for that and so I put aside the worrying side of me and laughed with her.
I could go on and on about our bickering and fighting over the course of three years. She’s 18 now and we’d grown pretty close over the years. All was going well until that last night. It was all my fault and I knew I should’ve listened but I was so blinded by hatred and anger that I couldn’t see or hear what she was trying to say. She was going on and on about random things, and eventually we were yelling. That was the first time I’d ever actually yelled at her, or at anyone, the way I was yelling at her now. We were in each others faces, screaming and crying. Boiling hot rage filled me up to the brim and I couldn’t stop myself.
I’m not exactly sure what I said to her but I could tell that it was awful by the way the world seemed to freeze. After that everything happened in slow motion and it scares me now just thinking about how I could’ve changed what happened. There was commotion in the kitchen and next thing I know, she’s bursting through the front door, into the freezing rain.
Going after her wasn’t an option. I was too upset to do anything, so I went out to the patio, under the awning. All I could do was scream into the stormy sky, not knowing what was happening to Kristine.
After a few hours I cooled off a bit and started to wonder what was taking Kristine so long to get home. It was eleven O’clock, and usually her curfew is eleven thirty, so I wasn’t too worried. But once midnight came, the fear came in waves. Calling her seemed like a good idea at the time but when I heard it ring in the other room, I knew she’d left it.
It was two twenty-five when I got a call. I couldn’t think of anyone who would call besides Kristine, so I answered with relief washing over me. Hearing what the man had to say was unbearable.
“Mr. O'Connell, I’m sorry to be the one to inform you of this, but in Ms. Lacey's  call log, you were the only one on the her call log.” My face went pale and I said nothing. “she’s been hit by a drunk driver a bit less than an hour ago, and is in critical condition. I’m so sorry, sir.”
My eyes went wide, full of tears. I fell to my knees silently sobbing into my palms. After a few heartbeats, all I could manage was: “Where is she?”
“Berkeley Hospital.”
Without hanging up, the phone dropped to the ground with a loud, clank! With no jacket and no car, I sprinted to the hospital faster than I thought any human could run. My mind was a complete blank; nothing existed besides the taste of my breath and the sound of rubber hitting pavement.
When I got there, the motion sensors weren’t on, or at least that’s what it seemed judging by the way I had to come to a complete stop before I forced them open. I sprinted in as the operator was yelling at me, saying I needed to sign in. It took a total of 4 nurses to get me to calm down and settle into the waiting room. My foot was constantly tapping and the woman at the desk looked as if she were about to rip her hair out.
When visiting hours were finally open, sprinting through the doors into room 406. The stairs were wide open. I ran like I was on fire. When I finally made it through that final door I fell to my knees with tears kissing my cheeks. The shadow of death seemed to be shading her face, and her heart rate was frighteningly slow. I gently pulled up a chair, careful not to wake her. All that I could do was sit and stare at nothing and everything at once; just the complete brokenness of her seemed to fill my senses.
She was black and blue and streaked with dried blood. Hair that was once long and luxurious was now cut short, with twigs and grass in her almost soaked hair. Her right hand was in a cast, and her bony fingers were scraped and bruised at the knuckles. The limpness of her body was both disturbing and comforting, as one could almost convince yourself she’d only just fallen asleep. Just thinking about her never waking up was enough to bring up the pizza we had eaten earlier. Pizza we had eaten before the fight.Nothing could get my mind off of her. As I stand up, my eyes grow heavy and the nausea catching up to me. My head feels light.
Everything goes black.
When I woke up everything seemed normal. Where was I? A hospital bed? Why does my head hurt? I forced myself to my feet, and took all of the wires off of me, and walked out the door. What floor am I on? Then it’s there. Room 406. Everything comes back. Is she still there? My feet force themselves to move, despite the pain in my head. The door is opened and she’s exactly how I remember her before I blacked out.
“She’s in a coma.” I turned and looked at him with disbelieving eyes. “We have her hooked up to breathing tubes but she’s not going to make it if we unplug her. There are no brain waves to make her breathe on her own, or eat. We are trying our very hardest to save her.”
No words came, no reaction to his grim prediction. There were no feelings inside of me at that moment. I was an empty vessel on a sea of sadness. All I could do was stare and try to stay afloat.
“She left a note for you. It was in her pocket. You’re…” She hesitated, “Dylan, right?”
I somehow found the strength to nod. She handed me the note and it said none other than “Don’t give up, and do your best. Make it through another day. And when tomorrow comes, make sure you do the same. I love you Dylan. Thank you for being my brother.” I couldn’t keep it in anymore. Tears came rolling down my cheeks and didn’t stop, just tear after tear after tear.
I was escorted out by the nurses unable to control myself. The look of sympathy on everyone's faces were unbearable. I can’t take it. I run as far as my feet can carry me, as fast as they can go. I don’t want to be here. Just let go.
I fainted on a backroad hours from Berkeley.
A white light comes upon my face, and I see her.
“Where am I?
“You’re with me.” She said smiling.
“I will never lose you again.”
“Pinky promise?”
“Pinky promise.” I said smiling like an idiot.