My Sister Asked for a Miu Miu Dress,I Landed Her in the Hospital

The hospital corridor was a blinding white, and the smell of disinfectant crawled up into my nose.

Olivia had been wheeled into the ER, her head wrapped in gauze, still crying in broken little hitches.

My parents stood guard at the door. My father didn't say a word, but I could feel the anger he was holding back.

My mother just glared at me, like she wanted to tear me apart and swallow me whole.

The police arrived quickly. After getting the basics and taking a look at Olivia's injuries, they brought me to the hospital's security office to take my statement.

"Why did you hit your sister?" the young officer asked.

"She wanted a very expensive dress. I wouldn't buy it for her, so we started arguing." I answered without flinching.

"You argued, so you put your hands on her? And this hard?"

I lowered my eyes, letting just the right amount of fragility creep into my voice.

"Work's been really stressful lately. My emotions have been all over the place. I couldn't control myself."

"Officer, can I request a psychiatric evaluation?"

"I'm scared something might actually be wrong with me, that I'll hurt my family again."

The way the officer looked at me shifted, the scrutiny softening into something closer to sympathy.

As we were talking, the door to the security office swung open.

My boyfriend, Gerard Gilbert, rushed in, his face all anxious worry.

"Mandy, your mom and dad told me what happened. Are you okay?"

He went around the officer and reached for my hand. I twisted away.

In my last life, it was him. He'd shown up with a stack of intimate photos of the two of us, and told the police, with all the heartbroken sincerity he could muster, that my private life was a mess, that I'd been thinking about pimping out my sister for money long before any of this.

Beneath that tender, devoted shell of his was nothing but calculation that couldn't stand the light of day.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I was worried about you." His brows knit together as he turned to the officer.

"Officer, there's definitely been a misunderstanding here. Mandy adores her sister. She'd never lay a hand on her for no reason."

He played the part so well.

The disgust in my chest was enough to make me sick, but on the surface I still had to perform that old dependence and fragility, my fingertips trembling just slightly.

My mother had followed in too, crying as she pleaded with the officer.

"Officer, my younger daughter just doesn't know any better. Her sister's been under so much pressure with school and work. We won't press charges. We'd like to drop the case."

I watched the two of them play their little duet with cold eyes.

They wanted to file this away as a "family dispute," to slap an "emotionally unstable" label on me, so they'd have an easier time smearing me down the road.

I didn't wait for the officer to speak. I stood up.

"No. I want this filed as a formal case. I need legal protection and medical intervention."

Everyone froze.

Gerard recovered first. He stepped closer and lowered his voice.

"Mandy, haven't you made enough of a scene? Do you really have to blow this up?"

I looked at him, and a sudden catch came into my voice.

"Gerard, my old ID card is missing. It must have fallen out on the way to the hospital. Can you go report it lost for me first?"

For a split second, Gerard's expression went stiff.

Of course he knew where my ID was.

"Okay. I'll go right now." He composed himself quickly and gently stroked my hair.

"Don't be afraid. I've got you."

I watched his back as he turned and walked away, my eyes rimmed red, but the smile at the corner of my mouth turning colder and colder.

I spent the whole night in the hospital's observation room.

The police took my suggestion and kept me under their protection until my psychiatric evaluation was finished.

Early the next morning, the preliminary results of my evaluation came back.

Acute stress disorder, brought on by a prolonged high-pressure environment.

Not quite an illness, but more than enough to serve as my reason for losing control.

My parents came to pick me up, exhaustion and impatience written across their faces.