The weather outside was hot and humid, typical for the Midwest during the height of the summer.
Mom called up the stairs:
"Alex, honey! Emma left for once; why don't you clean up a bit while we have a chance?"
Her voice sounded like it had the tiniest hint of desperation, a need to have a clean house while we had the time. Dad didn't mind a little mess, but Mom always said we had "other plans than dirty." Not sure why it bothered Mom so much, but hey: gotta listen to your mom.
I shrugged it off and climbed the stairs to Emma's room, still not used to its unique mess. Emma had a habit of hoarding, and Mom had given up on getting rid of anything a long time ago. Boxes of old books, piles of clothes that never got washed, and various craft projects littered the floor, some long forgotten. But to Emma, nothing had value if it wasn't connected to some obsession. It seemed like the only connection she had with reality was through what she found interesting, but I didn't know for sure. It seemed so lonely sometimes. It always came to a point where the mess seemed to just grow, almost like another living thing. I imagined there was some animal in the closet, feeding on it slowly over time.
As I reached the landing, I tried to imagine Emma out in the world. She seemed so isolated sometimes, afraid of other people in general. It seemed impossible to even picture the older girl, ginger hair covering her face, just trying to exist out in the world. I didn't know what life might've been like if she'd had the confidence that people like me took for granted. I just did my best to be understanding towards her, despite the frustrations that sometimes crept in.
Cleaning up the room felt more like going on an archeological dig than just simply tidying up. A forgotten world under the layers of junk, perhaps some evidence of who the real Emma was, hidden beneath a thick shroud of obsessiveness. As I lifted the clothes off the floor and shoved them into the overflowing hamper, I looked around in wonder at what might be left. There was a little desk in the corner with a rickety, old computer, a keyboard so crusted with dirt it seemed like it had taken permanent residence here. As I got closer to the computer, a part of me got curious. Emma always hid everything that mattered away; maybe this was a glimpse into something private that I could never find elsewhere? It was worth a look.
As I sat down, I had the uneasy feeling that I wasn't supposed to be here, that even sitting in this chair was intruding on something private. But then I thought, If she couldn't control what I saw now, what did it really matter? After all, Emma was such an enigma. Maybe finding something personal would help me understand why she chose to hide in here all the time.
The computer was unlocked, something that caught me off guard. Normally, we couldn't even touch each other's stuff without getting a scolding. Was it possible that Emma wasn't afraid of anyone looking through it? How naïve could I get sometimes?
The desktop was a clutter of folders, just like the room itself. Some of them had innocuous names, while others seemed downright ominous, like "Alex NSFW" and "Alex Scribblings". I couldn't even begin to imagine what was hidden inside. It made me queasy to think about it. Still, curiosity overwhelmed me and, with one finger on the mouse and the other in the air, I opened one of the folders labeled "Alex NSFW".
What was revealed to me was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Emma had written dozens of erotic fiction stories, each centered around the name "Alex". In one of the files, I read about me pleasuring myself for a picture of me taken in the bathroom. My heart was racing at this point, a mix of curiosity and excitement flooding through me.
The longer I stared at the words, the more I started to wonder if I'd accidentally fallen into the world of a pervert. Could it be that my older sister was a deviant? But how could I even think that way about my own sister? Maybe she was just practicing for something bigger or something. Besides, maybe the fiction wasn't real anyway. Just a series of coincidences that lined up for me to read. It must have been that, right?
As I exited the folder, my eyes roamed around the rest of the room, eventually landing on the closet door. The door had a couple of anime pins on it, not really my type of thing. Still, the closet was the only place left in the room that hadn't been touched yet. It wasn't like I was going to find anything more incriminating than what was on the computer. Without thinking, I walked over to the closet, turned the knob, and slowly swung the door open.
I wish I hadn't done that.
Inside, I saw a shrine. Plastic bags full of trinkets from me were spread across the closet floor, with old notes I'd written her plastered against the walls. Stuffed animals, my pictures, even an old pillowcase of mine, all filled up the closet. It was like Emma had created a tiny world where Alex and Alex alone existed, where everything I was was for her, with no other person considered. This was a completely different Emma than the introverted loner I knew. This was a mad Emma, fixated on me in ways I could hardly believe.
In the center, I found an effigy of me with a giant picture of my face over the head. It was horrifying, really. Like I had become nothing but an object in her twisted fantasy world. This was way beyond what normal family members would ever do or feel. I was stunned, my mind racing with questions and images I couldn't believe were coming true.
That moment, I understood just how messed up Emma was, and for whatever reason, it terrified me. It was like staring into the darkness and realizing there was no turning back. I had opened the door and invited the monster in. Was Emma dangerous? Was I in danger? All I could see in the shadows of Emma's mind was a sick obsession with me, a brother of hers, in a way that was utterly twisted and beyond repair.
As I was paralyzed in place, staring in horrified awe, I saw a shadow fall into the center of the closet. I turned my head to see Emma, standing there, with a blank expression that sent chills down my spine. She had never been so still or silent before. It was like she wasn't even in her own body. There was a strange calm in her eyes, but something more terrifying lurked underneath.