What’s a memory that stops you from sleeping at night?

The Weight of a Secret

My psycho sister wailed on her autistic daughter to cure her, then convinced everyone the kid was crazy when she reported her. So, I took her off her by force. A year later, she’s on my doorstep begging me to give her daughter back.

My sister is the type of person to miss her own child’s birthday party because she forgot to schedule it into her calendar.

So, when her daughter Mia was born, I insisted on helping to take care of her. Plus, I had a baby at around the same time, so I always wanted them to be best friends. I treated her like she was my own.

So, when Mia was 13 and I got a call saying she wanted to stay with us for a while, I agreed. Mia showed up to my front door with tears streaming down her face. Her eyes were so puffy I could barely see them.

And the tighter I hugged her, the more she cried. I invited her inside and grabbed her a tub of Ben and Jerry’s cookie dough.

I knew from experience that the more I pushed for answers, the more she would budge. So, I let me take her time to answer while I gently stroked her hair.

Suddenly, she took her t-shirt off and what I saw made me sick to the stomach. Littered on her tiny self were fresh bruises. I tried to keep my face calm because I knew I had to be strong for her. This made her cry a little less.

“Honey, is it true that you came because you wanted to visit me?”

Suddenly, her eyes flashed with anger. I literally saw her knuckles go white with how hard she was tensed up.

“What the actual f?”

“Did my effing mom tell you that?”

At this point, Mia was 13, so I thought I could trust her enough to tell the truth. I asked her what really happened.

Turns out her relationship with her mom went south as soon as she turned 10 because that’s when she was diagnosed with high functioning autism disorder. And instead of, you know, being a good parent and accepting her for who she is, her mom tried to beat it out of her.

Mia told me that if her mom ever caught her stimming or trying to meditate to regulate her over stimulation, she would shout right in her ears. And recently, she bought a speaker phone to amp up the autism healing.

I felt myself choke up and sniffle to hold back the tears when she said that. In front of me was a kind and sweet girl that the world had been unkind to. I didn’t know what to do, but one thing was for sure. There was no way she was going back to my sister’s house.

I promised she could stay as long as she wanted and handed her my phone so she could order noise cancelling headphones and a fidget cube of her choice. I could tell she appreciated it because even through her tears, the corners of her lips moved slightly upwards.

I had no idea this was the calm before the storm. At first, Mia was just quiet, staying in the guest room most of the time. I figured she was decompressing, so I gave her space.

My own kids were a little confused about why their cousin wasn’t talking to them like usual, but they didn’t push it. Then small things started to happen. My youngest, Timmy, came to me one day with a red mark on his arm.

“Mia pinched me,”

He whispered. I tried to talk to Mia about it, but she just stared at me with hollow eyes.

“I didn’t do anything,”

So I convinced myself that it was a misunderstanding, but the incidents kept escalating. One night, I heard a scream from the bedroom. I rushed in to find Mia standing over my oldest daughter, Lily, who had a bloody nose.

Mia was breathing heavily while Matt looked up at me with terror in his eyes. I took her to the living room and tried to stay calm.

“What happened?”

She just shrugged like she didn’t even register what she’d done. I was caught between wanting to protect her and needing to keep my kids safe. The guilt was eating me alive.

Over the next few weeks, Mia’s behavior became more unpredictable. She would scream at the slightest noise, throw things when my kids laughed too loud, and once she pulled Timmy’s hair so hard, I had to pry her fingers off.

I tried to be patient. I really did. But my kids were scared of their own home. One evening, after another meltdown where Mia threw my favorite vase at Lily, and almost unalived her, I called my sister. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I was desperate.

She picked up straight away.

“What did she do now?”

When I explained everything, there was silence on the other end. Then she laughed. A sharp, cruel laugh.

“Of course, she’s acting crazy,”

“She always has been,”

“She gave herself those bruises,”

“And that whole autism skit, she made it up for attention.”

I was stunned. Could I really have been that gullible? The doubt crept in like poison.

The next morning, I sat me down.

“Your mom is coming to get you,”

“I think it’s best you go home.”

She didn’t cry. She didn’t yell. She just walked out the door with her backpack, looking more defeated than I’d ever seen anyone.

I spent all night wondering if I had done the right thing. The next morning, I had my answer because that’s when I got the call. It was the police. Mia had been found after committing self unaliving.

I immediately fell to the floor. My sister was evil and I had left her in her clutches. I rushed to the hospital in a complete daze. I don’t even remember the drive there. My husband stayed home with the kids and I just kept repeating [ __ ] [ __ ] [ __ ] the entire way.