"Because, if you could love someone, and keep loving them, without being loved back … then that love had to be real. It hurt too much to be anything else."
I remember it like it was yesterday, although it was decades ago.
My sister and I had been fighting again, like we did so often, like I suspect most sisters do at that age.
This fight got more heated than usual. I screamed an obscenity at my sister before turning to storm out of the room, but then my neck suddenly whipped back painfully and I realised she was yanking my hair. In pain and shock, I spun around and slapped her hard across the face.
