EMSCO

My parents told everyone I was their miracle child. I discovered I was actually the reason my sister disappeared. My parents celebrated my birthday every year like I had survived something extraordinary. There were always photographs, expensive cakes, family gatherings and the same speech from my mother. "God gave us another chance when He gave us you." I grew up believing I was their miracle child. I was an only child, or at least that's what I had been told. There were no photographs of other children in our house, no stories about siblings, and no childhood memories involving anyone who could have been mistaken for family. But there was something strange about my seventh birthday. Every year, my mother would become unusually quiet three days before it. She'd lock herself in her bedroom, refuse visitors and sometimes cry when she thought nobody was watching. My father would spend those days drinking in his study. I eventually learned not to ask questions. When I turned eighteen, I found an old photograph inside my mother's jewellery box. It showed a little girl sitting on a hospital bed, holding a teddy bear. She looked about five. On the back, someone had written: To my beautiful firstborn. I promise I'll come back for you. I assumed it was a photograph of my mother as a child. But when I showed it to her, she snatched it from my hands so violently that the frame fell to the floor. "Where did you get this?" Her reaction frightened me. "It's just a photograph, Mum." She stared at me. Then she said something I'll never forget. "Some children should never have been brought into this world." I didn't understand what she meant. She apologised the following morning and bought me an expensive watch. We never discussed it again. Years passed. I moved abroad, got married, and eventually returned home when my father suffered a stroke. While sorting through his belongings, I discovered an old hospital file hidden beneath his mattress. The patient's name was familiar. It was mine. But the date was six years before I was born. I opened the file. Inside was a photograph of the same little girl from my mother's jewellery box. And beneath it was a medical report with a handwritten note. "Patient's younger sibling was present during the incident. Parents have requested that the surviving child never be informed." I read it three times. Younger sibling? What incident? I immediately called my mother. She didn't answer. Instead, I received a text message from an unknown number. If you've found your father's hospital records, don't ask your mother anything. She isn't the only person who knows what happened to your sister. My sister. I had a sister.