My Sweet Audrina by V.C. Andrews

Author:V.C. Andrews
Format: epub

I'd prepared myself for anything but this. Blind, deaf, lame I thought I could handle—but not this. I didn't need a retarded sister to complicate the rest of my life.

That's when I turned to see that Sylvia was dangerously near the steps. Rushing forward, I grabbed her just in time. "Papa, you said she could see!"

"She can see. She is also very intuitive. She wouldn't have fallen. She's very much like a wild creature that lives by its instincts. Love her a little, Audrina, even if you can't love her a lot. She needs someone to love her and if you love every stray cat and dog and nurse every wounded bird you find, then you can love your retarded sister and care for her as long as she needs you."

I stared up into his full, handsome face just beginning to show a few lines. A bit of silver softened the dark hair at his temples. I wasn't twelve years old yet, and he was putting me in charge of a child that would stay a perpetual baby.

Many times Papa had told me I was smart, that I could do anything I set my mind to. Soon he was saying I'd have Sylvia potty-trained in no time at all.

Love could do more than professional expertise. I continued to stare at him with wide eyes as he went on to say I'd also teach her how to focus her eyes, control her lips, how to walk properly, talk well. I couldn't stop watching Sylvia awkwardly backing down the five steps on her hands and knees. Then she got up to wander about in the yard. Several times she made an attempt to pull a camellia from the bush. The color seemed to attract her, and when she finally it in her small hand, she tried to hold it to her nose and sniff.

She didn't know exactly where her nose was, or if she did, she didn't know how to aim precisely. I was touched, horrified and full of pity. In the short time she'd been here, she'd managed to dirty her dress and scuff her shoes beyond repair, and her pretty hair was hanging in her face.

I was in turmoil. I pitied Sylvia. I wanted her and I didn't want her. I loved her, and maybe I was already beginning to hate her a little, too. Weeks later I was to suspect that if given a choice at that moment, before she had a chance to seize my heart, I would have sent her back to where she came from.

But Sylvia was here and she was my

responsibility. Maybe I didn't want her or need her, but for my beloved dead mother I would take care of Sylvia, even if it meant denying myself the freedom I might have had if she'd never been born.

As I stood at the age of almost twelve watching her, something tender and loving came and hurried me along the path toward maturity. I rushed down the stairs so I could snatch her up into my arms.

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