My Sister's Keeper

vigil over her for weeks listening to the beeps and clicks of the machinery that kept her alive, pleading with her not to die. Martha was the one person in this

pt me

ured it out. Like the time a girlfriend of hers showed up with a Rubik's Cube. Martha was only eight at the time, but she'd spun and twisted that thing relentlessly—practically that entire summer—until finally she woke me early one Sunday morning holding it out in the palm of her ha

e saw me give up on anything, regardless of how insignificant—forgetting a phone number, finding the right nut to fi

e, the more he liked it. And when she did beat me, he always cast that malevolent glare from the corner of his eye that cut deep and made me feel as though I'd s

e never seemed to mean much to her, and maybe that's why she got so much of it from him. It mattered to me, though, and he knew it, and he manipulated it to cut out my heart. Ironically, she

ed her, or ignored her, maybe she would

nd she'd lost that baby fat that had lingered long past high school. Her eyelashes were long and thick—the envy of t

here tiny bits of pink polish lingered—reminders of a time when her life had been

somehow—had scraped together the money. "An anonymous scholarship, " she'd said. Martha graduated summa cum laude, took a

as ecstatic! Twenty-four years old, armed with a Master's in commun

ed warehouse in Wilmington, raped by two men while being videotaped by a third, then bound, gagged, and thrown in the

e working for the Wilmington Star-News—had been assigned to the case. After a two-hour drive, I planted myself in Sam's office and hounded him relentlessly un

eight-foot steel-mesh fence surrounding the property. Railroad tracks crisscrossing the grounds all led into a huge four-story corrugated metal building set back along the river's edge. Among the tall weeds around the perimeter la

ing in my chest. As I waited, I envisioned that helpless thirteen-year-old being snared off the street, fighting against the strengths of three men—her cries smothered, her breathing obstructed by a powerf

ality, leering at me with its yellow eyes. I honked the horn to frighten i

at the next intersection with their parents protectively tailing them fu

of questions I needed to answer for the story. Finally, as the sun melted into the trees on the far side of the river, I wondered if Sam had forgotten about our meeting. I called him again and this time left a message tryin

must have been going through that thirteen-year-old's mind and what could have been going through the sick minds of those bastards that raped her. What is this need some men have t

the interior dome light and searched the darkness around me sensing a thousand eyes out there watching me. Looking back at the railway

ow in that warehouse. Please hurry.' After hanging up, I just sat there staring at that window horror-stricken that another young girl could be in t

n a navy blue windbreaker, I made a mental note to keep a flashlight, running shoes, jeans, and an old sweatshirt in the car for future times like this. I switched my phone to vibrate only, crept

window, but it wasn't until I pressed against a wooden hatch near the ground that I found a way to get in. Dropping to my knees, I shoved it inward breaking loose its rusty hinges and crawled into the opening to get

g for Sam, then dialed his number again and left one last message. 'There's some