It was Berry's birthday.
I arrived at the care home with my heart thudding, hoping that this visit would go differently. I missed my baby sister, Bertha, so much.
She sat by the window in a wheelchair, staring off with a vacant expression. She looked thin, a shadow of the once plump, lively lady she used to be. Her jet-black hair streaked with grey was twisted into a neat braid.
An old, tattered copy of *Great Expectations* lay open on her laps. I shot a questioning look at the nurse. She only shrugged. “She asked for it this morning.”
That was great progress, after years of silence following the trauma of watching our father try to kill her.
It started small: the migraines, then hallucinations, especially visions of dead relatives. Our father hadn't been right in the head for months. We hoped he would get better with all the drugs his therapists prescribed.
When he finally snapped on a late afternoon, no one was home to save Berry. I arrived too late to find them both unconscious and bleeding.
Our father died from defensive stab wounds while Berry survived but was in coma for a month. She finally woke up but would not speak to anyone.
She remembered everything but was unwilling to talk about it to anyone. Every visit ended in silence. I kept showing up once every month, desperate to get my sister back.
She had nightmares on the anniversaries of our father's passing and often ended up being sedated.
But this year was different — she spoke a few days ago asking to see me. When I got the voicemail relaying this news, I knew my wish had been granted.
Taking the empty seat against the wall across from her, I gently slipped my hand into hers. Berry blinked once, her amber eyes finding me. They searched for a long moment until recognition shone through.
She smiled. And all I saw in her eyes was sadness.
“Hey you,’” I whispered, my relief and love spilling out. “Happy birthday. I've missed you so much.”
She gripped my hands tight as her tears fell. “I screamed for help...I...didn't mean to hurt him. He says he forgives me…in my dreams. I saw him.”
I pulled her into my arms while she held on, shaking. It was not the silence. Grief and guilt held my baby sister back from living. She was free at last.
*I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase ["grant me a wish"](https://peakd.com/hive-161155/@daily.prompt/21-october-2025-mariannewests-freewrite-writing-prompt-day-2897-grant-me-a-wish).*
Thank you for visiting my blog.
*Image credit: [Sabinevanerp](https://pixabay.com/photos/hands-old-old-age-senior-citizens-4344711/)*