Momo

The first six years of my life were spent in peace. Just Mummy and Papa and Sachi (that’s me) and no one else. Mummy stayed at home and Papa went to his office after dropping me off at school. I watched TV while eating Mummy’s home-cooked meal and then I’d go play in the park with my friends. I never thought I needed anything else.

My best friend was Miku and we played all kinds of games like ice-water and house-house. Miku brought such cute dolls to play the roles of all the family members in our little imagined soap operas. But one day, instead of her dolls, Miku brought a little kid along with her. Thankfully, it was her little sister and not some random girl she’d picked up off the street. She was only two-and-a-half years old and she looked so cute! She was very shy and she didn’t talk to any of Miku’s friends. It didn’t help that all of us were staring at her like she was an extinct bird-of-paradise that had been Jurassic-Park’d back to life. However, after a while, Miku’s little sister grew accustomed to us and started playing with us. But she was like a little porcelain doll that had to be handled with care at all times. Even the smallest scratch or fall made her cry a river and all the other girls would rush towards her to calm her down and give her their candy. Only, Miku took the candy on her behalf and kept it in her pocket and I knew she ate half of them. Miku was my best friend only in name after she started bringing her little sister along. She always had to keep a watch over her and she wouldn’t play house-house with me because her little sister didn’t understand the big words we used (just a reminder: we were six years old). And Miku didn’t let me play with her little sister either. She said I was too rough and her little sister might get hurt. I felt so alone even when I was surrounded by the people who used to be my friends.

So I asked Mummy and Papa for a little sister of my own. Of course, I had no clue back then what that entailed. It was just a selfish request from a little child. At first they smiled and ignored me. But I kept pestering them, day and night, and finally, they relented. Now that I think back on it, it must have been strange to be forced by your own child to have sex.

Nine months later, there was a new addition to our family: a little boy named Momo. In the beginning, I adored Momo. I helped Mummy change his diapers, I warmed up his milk bottle, I sang lullabies to him. At the park, I bragged to my friends that I had a little baby brother who was cuter than any of them could imagine. I would just have to wait a little while before Momo would be able to walk and then I would be the centre of attention and I would get all the candy.

But I soon realised that Momo didn’t like me. He would throw a tantrum whenever I went near him, as if I were a stranger, not his big sister. It only got worse once he started speaking. He never called me ‘onee-chan’. I was just Sachi to him. But my parents never scolded him. He was their little darling son. Momo never shared his chocolates with me but stole mine. But my parents never scolded him. He was their darling son. He pulled my hair and slapped me hard and called me a witch. But my parents never scolded him. He was their little darling son and he could do no wrong. When I hit him back gently, he cried like I had broken his legs. And my parents scolded me. I had hurt their darling son.

One day, when Momo was finally big enough, I took him to the park with me and I introduced him to all my friends. But unlike Miku’s little sister, Momo was extremely outgoing. He got chummy with all my friends in no time. For the first three days, it seemed like it had all been worth it. But the next day, Momo went to the park before me. When I got there, none of my friends talked to me and none of them explained why. After a few days of being ignored, I stopped going to the park altogether. Momo didn’t. To this day, I don’t know what he said to them.

My little life of peace and quiet had turned into hell. Every day I was blamed for one of Momo's misdeeds. No amount of pleading could convince my parents that I wasn’t guilty. He even slashed Papa’s car’s tyres once. But he was innocent and I was the problem child.

If Momo wanted something, he only had to say the word and it would be given to him. Game consoles, chocolates, nice shoes, you name it. While I had to beg for even a nice pen. His wish was my parents’ command. He was like our little dictator.

One day, when I was sixteen, and he was ten, he accused me of something so unspeakable, so horrifying, that I can’t even repeat it. I don’t even know where he, a ten-year-old, heard about it.

And he said, ‘Send her away. I hate her.’ And that was it.

I was sent to a mental institution at the age of sixteen because of a simple lie my brother told my parents. For the next twenty years, I suffered and suffered. My parents came to visit me sometimes but I was always under the haze of the drugs they gave me.

I was tortured, until I escaped. The day I came back to kill Momo, I saw he was getting married. To Miku’s little sister.

When he saw me, he said, ‘Where have you been, onee-chan? I missed you so much. Why did you leave me?’