A SNIPPET FROM MY UNTITLED WIP:


The worst thing, apart from the obvious, was seeing my sister fade away before my eyes.

Looking at Abby was like looking into a mirror, identical in every way, from our long blonde tresses, right down to our emerald green eyes and our curvy silhouettes.

After her diagnosis, the weight dropped off her, her eyes lost their sparkle, and her hair slowly fell out leaving a shadow of who she once was. I’d look at Abby and I’d feel guilty.

Why wasn’t I sick? Why had Abby been given such a horrible sentence?

Why did she deserve to die and not me?

Every day following her death, I’d look in the mirror and see Abby. I’d see the Abby I knew before she got sick. The Abby that was full of life, stuck deep inside her sick exterior right up until the moment she died.