Some kind of hardcore warrior sister.

I loved Stephanie. She was translucent and mad. She could say or do anything and no one broke her down. Not even our dad, and I was scared shitless of him. She stood up to him like some kind of hardcore warrior and I swear I could almost see a black cape flung across her back with her hands on her hips whenever she came into a room, daring my dad to trample her.

WARRIOR SISTER BY MEG TUITE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 13

When I actually got my own room I always kept the door closed. It wasn’t like there was anything actually happening in there—I was usually reading—but the thought that something could or might be happening at any moment in my room made it a necessity to keep the door closed and everyone else out and wondering.

One afternoon I was lying on my bed reading a book that promised to launch me out of this reality into a place far, far away, when there was a knock at the door. It wasn’t exactly a knock so much as a cautious, little tap. In other words, it was my mother. I let h…