My Sister Killed me

My sister and I never got on, from a very early age she had issue with me, as a child I understood that it was probably the five years difference between us and that this was how older children treated one another. I think its safe to say I was abused by my sister in a variety of ways probably best not discussed in this forum. There were systematic weird attacks sometimes just for the sake of it, sometimes to cause me extreme hurt both mentally and physically. From framing me for things I never did, to just attacking me to make me cry, my young years were a continual turmoil of abuse at the hands of the very person who I later understood should really have been protecting me.

The abuse made me a little withdrawn from life, I was never bullied at school or unpopular, I just never really mattered a whole hell of a lot. As a child I felt that same vibe at home, so when I grew to be an adult, I was determined to make my mark on the world, with the immaturity of my youthful years of course my mark was often more of a whimper, less of an explosion more of an implosion. This of course gave evidence for hatred to grow between my sister and I, my continual want to prove myself, hers to see my demise. The turning point came when I was seventeen, having not hit me for some years, she had had a bad day. Despite being in a relationship, she’d taken a shine to someone at her place of work and they had rejected her, I became the target for her rage. She made some cutting comment, I snapped back with something more offensive and that was it she slapped me. Despite being bought up to never hit women, at least 10 years of abuse made me blow up, I hit her and hit her again. The two of us rolling around in a ball of arms and legs hitting each other at every opportunity. It ended with me picking her up and throwing her from the front door of the house, my Grandmother continuously said to my sister “one day he will give you such a slap” and this played in my mind during the whole debacle, You see my Grandmother was fully aware of the abuse I received, but indifferent to help, it was a different time and childhood rivalries with siblings were just turned a blind eye too. After her ousting my sister ran to my mother and then ran to her boyfriend to come and beat me up despite her hopes of infidelity causing all this in the first place, a thing that would become a recurring issue through her life.

From that day on, she and I never really spoke and when I discussed this with my Grandmother, she revealed that my sister was only my half sister and that she was from my mother’s period marriage. Maybe her “beef” came from jealousy that I was from a new more loved marriage to this day I guess I will never know, because 30 years on and we have only spoke rarely and seldom in a good way. Through the death of my mother and two grandmothers, we never really connected and most likely never will. She believes me to be bad, but the truth is far from it. I was not always good growing up, but 50% of her thought and beliefs are fiction in her brain.

In 2019 before the UK slipped into a European Union free life, I opted to renew my passport early. But the revelation of this was that I had no other ID. Having lost my driving license along with my wallet and opted not to drive again over 25 years earlier, I felt it was time to reclaim the license, so I had some back up identification. When I contacted the DVLA (the UK’s Driving License Agency) they told me my licence had been closed following my death some 15 years earlier. I had been declared dead by my sister, who now owned the address I grew up in. While being lightly amused by the news of my passing, it did flag a massive issue in someone having the ability to declare me dead without any evidence. Thankfully different times and different systems did eventually play out in my favour and my sister did not in fact kill me.

My life has been dogged by the quote “You can choose your friends, but not your family” but exactly how much can a family member hate you to wish you dead? This is an answer I will never truly know, neither will I truly be able to connect with a nephew grown up with an indoctrinated view about me, led by half truths and perception. Blood or at least half blood may indeed be thicker than water, but the benefit is that at least you can drink water. I will never know the joy of a loving relationship with a sibling, but maybe its for the best.