“My son, please look after your sick sister. You mustnt abandon her!” whispered his mother, her voice frail.
“Son, the house will be yours. But I beg you, care for your sister. Dont leave her behind!” Her words clawed at his chest.
“Listen to me” she breathed, barely audible.
Every word was agony. The illness had wasted her away without mercy. She lay in bed, frail as parchment, barely recognisable. Edward barely knew her anymore. Once strong, smiling, full of lifenow
“Edward, please dont turn your back on Margaret. Shes gentle. Shes different, but shes ours. Promise me” Her grip tightened with unexpected strength. Where she found it, he couldnt fathom.
Edward grimaced. His gaze flicked to his older sister, Margaret, playing in the corner of their small flat in Manchester. Past forty, yet still lost in her dolls, humming tunelessly. She smiled as if death werent looming, as if it were a celebration.
Edward had his life sorteda construction firm, a flashy SUV, a big house near the Mersey. But there was no place for Margaret there. His kids feared her. His wife, Emily, called her “mad.” Yet Margaret was harmless, playful, innocent.
“Well you know Ive got a family and Margarets” he stammered, trying to pull his hand free.
“Son, your fathers house is yours. For Margaret, Ive left a three-bed flat. Its all legal.”
“Whered you get the money?!” Edward and Emily exchanged stunned glances, faces alight with greed.
“I cared for the old schoolteacher Brought her meals, medicine. She was kind. Never thought shed leave me the flat. Its in Margarets nameso shed always have shelter. But you you must watch over her. Later, itll go to your children. Who knows how long shell live”
That night, his mother died.
Margaret didnt seem to grasp she was orphaned. Edward took her in at once and started renovating the flat.
“Why does Margaret need all that space? Let her stay here. Well rent it out.”
At first, Emily didnt object. Margaret was no troubleplaying, laughing all day. But her oddness unnerved Emily. “Shes calm today, but tomorrow?”
“Just bear with it,” Edward pleaded. Yet six months later, with a solicitor friends help, he transferred his parents house and Margarets flat into his name. He tricked her into signing papers without explanation.
Then hell began.
While Edward worked, Emily tormented Margaretcursing her, locking her in rooms, sometimes feeding her cat food. Hed find her crying, terrified. One day, Emily hit her. Margaret, petrified, wet herself.
“Not just a lunatic, but pissing yourself too?! Out of my house!”
She threw Margarets things in a bag and shoved her out.
“Wheres Margaret?” Edward asked that evening, stretching in bed.
“She left!” Emily snapped. “Pissed herself, then locked herself in the bedroom. When I opened it, she bolted with her bag. I wont chase after a madwoman!”
Edward said nothing. Then, “Fine, if shes gone” He turned on the telly. “Found tenants, by the way.”
The night dragged. He thought of Margaret. Where was she? Helpless as a child. He barely slept, dreaming of his mother by dawn:
“I begged you, son” she warned from her coffin, finger raised.
The dream haunted him for weeks. He couldnt take it. After two months, he called his godmother, Anne:
“What, Edward, conscience biting?” she said coldly. “Lucky I visited your mothers grave. Found Margaret terrifiedtook her in. Ill keep her. Dont need her flat. You live with your shame!”
“Bloody hell, Anne” he muttered, hanging up. Relief washed over himMargaret was safe.
But she died two months later, same illness as their mother. Edward skipped the funeral”urgent business.”
Ten years passed. Now Edward lay ill, wracked with pain and guilt. Emily lived with another man. His kids visited rarely, scowling: “You smell of sickness”
One day, Emily marched in with papers:
“Sign. Well sort the firm.”
He signed. Too late, he realisedit was the house deed. Then the company. No going back. He thought of his mother. Of Margaret. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Forgive me” he whispered into the emptiness swallowing him whole.
