That night it happened, I had gone out drinking with the boys. It was just a normal Saturday night. We went to a pub around our area and kept throwing drinks down our throats for the culture. One bottle became two, then three, then plenty more before we even realised how drunk we had gotten.

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By the time I was going home, I could barely see properly. I was stumbling and struggling to keep myself straight. The only reason I made it home safely was because I know the neighbourhood too well. Even in that condition, I could still recognise certain places and landmarks that helped me find my way home.

The next morning, I prayed it was just a dream.

I kept hoping my mind had made it all up because of how drunk I was. But it was not a dream. It happened.

The girl sleeping on the couch that night, the one I forced myself on, is my sister.

My own sister.

We have been living together for months, peacefully too. No fights, no issues, no strange relationship between us. Just siblings living under the same roof and trying to survive life. Nothing happened between us before that night that could explain what I did.

Since then, I have not been able to look her in the eyes.

I feel weak and ashamed every single day. She has not said a word to me since it happened. Not one word. And somehow, that silence is worse than insults.

I have tried talking to her. I have tried apologising. But nothing I say gets any reaction from her. Every word sounds useless the moment it leaves my mouth.

What I did is an abomination. I know that. Being drunk does not change it. Alcohol cannot excuse it.

Now the house feels heavy and uncomfortable. Every time I hear her moving around, I feel sick inside because I know I destroyed something that can never be repaired.

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And honestly, I do not even know how to move forward from here.

 

—George

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