Chapter 1
My mom brought home an eight-year-old girl with special needs from the dump.
She couldn't speak, couldn't smile, and her eyes were vacant, just like a puppet.
All the relatives called my mom crazy. "You can barely put food on the table for your own family, and you still bring home a dumb girl to raise?"
My mom shot back, "She's got a life, too."
From that day on, I had a little sister.
I fed her meals, showed her how to get dressed, and stood up for her when the village kids threw rocks at us.
For fifteen years, she never said a single word.
Then, on my wedding day, she suddenly came running into the hall and clung tightly to my wedding dress.
Her very first words left all three hundred guests completely speechless.
I tossed the bouquet aside.
"This wedding is off," I announced.
The groom's face went pale.
*****
My mom Mary Harper brought home a girl from the dump.
The girl was squatting in the middle of the yard.
Her clothes were filthy, and her hair was a tangled mess.
She was eight years old, couldn't speak, and never smiled.
The village busybodies all showed up to watch the spectacle.
Their gossip was enough to drown a person alive.
"Mary, are you out of your mind?"
"You can barely put food on the table for your own family."
"And now you bring home a dumb girl? That's just another mouth to feed!"
"I think she's lost her mind."
My mom stood at the doorway, broom in hand.
She didn't say a word, just gave the crowd a cold, sweeping stare.
The crowd quickly broke up and scattered.
My dad was squatting under the eaves, having just finished smoking his pipe.
He stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants.
"Let's give her a name," he said.
My mom looked at the girl for a long moment before saying, "Let's call her Annie."
From that day on, I had a little sister.
I wasn't happy about it.
The eggs at home were meant for me, so I could eat while studying.
Now, I had to split them with her.
With barely enough food to go around, now there was another plate at the table.
My mom washed Annie up and put her in my old clothes.
The clothes were way too big, hanging off her like she was swimming in them.
She still looked the same, lifeless as ever, like she had no soul.
My mom put the plate in her hands.
She didn't move.
My mom handed her the fork.
She still didn't move.
The food went cold, and she didn't eat a single bite.
That night, my mom told me to share a bed with her.
I jumped up in protest.
"I'm not sleeping with a dumb girl!" I shouted.
My mom raised her hand, but stopped mid-air.
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Susan, she's got a life, too," she said.
That night, I turned my back to Annie, keeping a distance between us.
In the middle of the night, I felt the blanket beside me shift.
Annie had rolled off the bed and onto the floor.
After a moment's hesitation, I got up and carried her back to bed.
She was so light, like a feather.
The next day, I helped Annie eat.
I'd take a bite, then give her one.
She finally opened her mouth to eat.
I tried to teach her how to get dressed, going over the same steps again and again.
No matter how many times I showed her, she just couldn't figure it out.
Whenever I went out, she'd follow right behind me, never leaving my side.
The village kids would throw rocks at her and call her stupid.
I'd grab even bigger rocks and chuck them back, ending up brawling with those kids.
My face got bruised, and my clothes got torn.
On the way home, I walked ahead, and she followed behind.
I felt a gentle tug on the hem of my shirt.
I turned around.
Annie was looking at me, clutching a piece of candy.
It was the same one I'd given her that morning, the one she'd been holding onto all day.
The candy wrapper was damp from her sweaty palm.
She held the candy up to my mouth.
For the first time, there was a glimmer of light in her eyes.
My nose stung with emotion.
I took the candy, unwrapped it, and popped it into my mouth.
It was so sweet.
From that day on, I knew I was stuck with this little sister for life.
For fifteen years, she never said another word.
That piece of candy was the only way she ever spoke to me.