The Boy She Left Behind ✓

Chapter 1

The sound of birds chirping is what woke me up. That and the fact that my sister was blaring rock music so loud that it reverberated through the walls. But let's go back to the nice birds. These birds were one of the reasons I loved my flat.

The compound was situated near a park, a habitat for numerous beautiful, little winged creatures. And just beside my room was a large oak tree which served as the platform for the melodious orchestra of the birds' singing every morning.

I loved waking up to the sound of little birds chirping beside my window – as long as I wasn't deafened by my sister's music instead. Sorry, it's awfully hard to ignore such loud music that it practically rocks your soul and that too not in a good way.

Grumbling and cursing under my breath, I finally pushed myself off of the bed and marched towards my sister's room.

"Stop that nonsense before I stop your heart," I hissed after tearing open the door to her room.

"Chill, sis," came the reply from my beautiful sister, Sandra. "It's just music."

"Rock music at 8 bloody a.m.!"

Sandra held up her hands in defence and stepped back a few paces to turn off the speakers. "There," she began cautiously, "it's off now."

"Good." The deep scowl dissolved from my face but left behind a small frown.

Sandra smiled encouragingly before pushing past me and down the hallway. "Do you want some breakfast or would you rather just go and eat from that stupid café around the block?" she asked and then sourly added under her breath, "Like I even need to ask that."

"I heard that, you know."

"You were supposed to, you know," she said mimicking my voice.

I laughed in response and followed her to our little kitchen where I stood by the counter.

Our little flat was not very luxurious and neither very huge; just big enough for the two of us. It had a small living room that also served as our drawing room for whenever we had any visitors. Beside it was the open kitchen with marbled counter to the side. The place had two bedrooms with a small corridor in-between. At the end of the corridor was another room that contained all our supplies along with an ironing table and a washing machine. In the living room we had gotten a large bookshelf installed when we had first moved in here about two years back – right after my parents' death as they drowned trying to save each other after having fallen off a boat – and that bookshelf contained all the numerous books that us two sisters had collected through the years.

I watched as Sandra opened a drawer, took out various ingredients and laid them out on the counter.

"You know, one of these days I'm gonna start to believe that you secretly hate my cooking and that that's the real reason behind your early morning runs to that cafe," commented Sandra.

"Aw love, you know that's not true. I love your cooking!"

"Love it so much as to throw up out of pure bliss and admiration," she retorted.

I raised my hands in defence. "Okay that was one time, San. One time. And I've already told you that I was sick that day! Your cooking, your amazing and mouth-watering cooking, had nothing to do with it!"

Sandra muttered under her breath, "So you say."

"Okay so let us not start the day on a bad foot here," I manoeuvred my way over to her and placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek. "I'll quickly run to the cafe, grab my cocoa and eggs, and run right back to you. Then we'll have breakfast together like two dear sisters who love each other to the world's end."