bully (part one).

     My stepsister, Jess, is a real bully.

     Being a year older than me, she takes every opportunity to embarrass or humiliate me.  It's gotten to the point where I won't bring friends over to the house anymore.  She'd shout things into the room, like "What's that smell?  Oh, you're home.  When's the last time you took a shower, Jill?"  Or fully assault me for being in her room, even though I rarely am.  I admit, her insistence that I stay out, is what fascinates me.  If the door is closed, it's all the more alluring.  It's the foreign world of a cool person, where music, magazines, and makeup reign.  One time, I found condoms.  She burst into my room, and held me on the ground, with my arms behind my back, and her knee in my back.  She made me beg to be let go, pleading that she was better looking and smarter than me, and that I was a piece of garbage, that would never amount to anything.  All while I had a friend over!  It was so embarrassing.  Needless to say, that friend would never talk to me again.

     The other night, I was woken from a deep sleep.  I heard little noises, little a squeaking chipmunk, that only slightly vary in length and pitch.  Thinking it was something like a chair, or her bed, I tried to imagine what the heck she was doing in there.  It's happened many nights since, and I lie there in my bed, trying to reason it out.  I picture Jess annoyingly rocking on her office chair, while reading one of her magazines.  I imagine her jumping on her bed, trying to tire herself out for sleep.  Whatever it is, this new habit of hers is driving me absolutely crazy.            

     Tonight, when I hear the noises, I decide to investigate.  I creep down the hall, to her room.  I peer through the crack in her door, and can vaguely see her outline.  I'm surprised to see that the lights aren't on, or that she isn't up and moving around.  I watch a little longer, and realize the noises are coming from her!  Suddenly, I feel shameful to infringe on her privacy, and almost turn back to my room.  But my curiosity gets the better of me.  I squint my eyes in the darkness.  She is on her back, with her legs bent, her feet in the air.  But because her lower half is under her blanket, I can't understand exactly what is going on.  What is under there?  It must be very small, because there doesn't seem to be anything at all.  It appears to be almost painful at times.  I try to position myself better, and the door creaks.  Jess turns toward me, but I pull my face away from the door.  I wait until she starts the squeaking again, before quietly retreating back to my room.  Confused, mind racing, I have trouble falling back asleep.

     The next night, I get ready for bed, as usual, except for one small difference.  I kneel down at the side of the bed, and pray that Jess stops whatever she is doing.  Though I don't understand it exactly, I know it is bad.  But, before I know it, she is at my door.