My Sister’s Room

I have always been told not to go into my sister’s bedroom.  Under any circumstance.  So of course, I snuck into her room as much as I could.  She was only three years older than me so I was obsessed with her clothes, but knew I couldn’t wear them since I wasn’t supposed to be in her room in the first place.  Really, I think I was just looking for the reason why I wasn’t allowed to be in her room in the first place.  When I started breaking into her room, I was too entranced over the fact I could get into her room so easily that I forgot what I was looking for.  I broke in so many times I eventually became nonchalant about it. 

The twelfth time I broke in, I got out with seconds to spare and I knew I had to get serious about searching her room.  I couldn’t get caught, but I had to know what she was hiding.  Why did my parents back her up like they did?  Anyone could come into my room at any time, but why was she so special?  I found the answer the day before she left for a weekend trip with her boyfriend.  By the time she came home from her trip, all the newspapers would know her name and what she had done.  I was wondering if I would get kicked out of the house, but at least I wouldn’t still be living with a murderer. 


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