Jail House Sisters

I sat hunched on my bed with the same magazine opened to the same page I've been reading for days. Yeah, you'd think a normal person would get a new one...but I'm not saying I'm normal. Ha, who is? Anyway, its three in the morning and Dakota has yet to come back home. She's been gone for hours. Blowing me off with her new boyfriend was one thing, but not coming home was definitaly a mom and dad talk. I was 'lucky' enough to meet the guy a few days ago and I didnt like the feeling he gave me. I dont trust the bastard. What Dakota sees in him is beyond me...or this planet.
Spencer, my older brother, has been visiting from collage for a few days and my family almost felt complete. I rarley get to see him or speak to him since my parents don't think he is a good 'influense' on us, but I think they are just mad that he didnt go on to become a lawyer or something. He's in art school now, I guess that's where I get my painting from. Both my parents are doctors in the ER, so they are usually about perfect numbers and lines. Art isn't really their favorite subject. I love the life my brother gets to live. Draw for your job, stay out late, be creative, and most of all be free. Sometimes I feel trapped in my parents firm grip on my life.
A sound of running feet coming from the street below renched me out of my daydream. I rushed to the opened window to see a dark figure running fiercly down the middle of the deserted road. Looking closely at the person I saw the farmiliar gaint and shape of me in her. Dakota finally decided to come home. Joy to the world.
I jumped onto my bed and 'read' the section again. What? I dont want to look interested in my sisters buisness.
Hearing the tiny footsteps quitly run up the stairs, I pretended not to. My anger had still not worn off. Dakota suddenly rushed into the room, and without saying anything she dashed into our shared bathroom connected to our room. This wasnt normal for her. I was still so used to her talking to each other about our nights and what we did. We were, after all, best friends. Sometimes I'm pretty sure she's my only friend I have nowadays. Trying to keep things normal I started up a convirsation.
"Did you see what I painted on the wall yet?" I called from my bed. My parents had allowed me to start painting artwork on my walls since I always used up most of the paper they gave me. As long as Dakota liked it, my paintings could stay up. She usually enjoyed watching me blend in different colors to draw a new design over her bed, so I was safe from destroying any.
No answer came from the bathroom. I sighed and rolled of my blue blanket that covered my whole bed like my own personal ocean. She better not be having one of her moody days. Last time we hadn't talked for days.
"Hey, Kota, did you hear what I-" I trailed off as I say her in the old bathtub, clutching her knees with her arms. Her face was covered in dirt and tears were streaming down her pale face. There was some liquid covering her white blose and trailed into the bathtub....I quickly realized it was blood.
"Dakota!" I screamed, then I covered my mouth in horror at what I had just seen. The blood was dripping from a huge knife that hung loosly in Dakota's tiny grasp. I felt dizzy at the red liquid flooding our bathroom. Rushing to the toilet, I vomited violently into the bowl. She new I couldnt be around so much blood without loosing it.
"Ivy," I heard Dakota's voice break horsely from the tub. Lifting my sweaty head, she was leaning over to try and hold my hand. I crawled over and gripped the wet hand defeatedly. Trying not to look, I questioned my sister in the opposite direction.
"What's going on, Dakota? Why are you covered in blood? Are you hurt?" I suddenly spun around and getting over my fear, tryed to find any signs of wounds. I found nothing.
"No, I'm not....bleeding. This isn't my blood." Her voice was full of fear and despuration, almost like she was pleading with me to make me understand. I stared at her bloody body, I felt sick. I swallowed my stuipid weakness and continued.
"Dakota," I started slowly, glancing down at the long knife. "Who's blood is this?"
My sister stared up at me with my eyes. Sometimes it felt like I was looking at a mirror whenever I was with my sister like this. My light eyes were copied perfectly into her sockets, and the fair colored skin was pasted onto her bones from mine, also our frizzy uncontrolable hair was one thing we shared and hated.
"I-I-I can't tell you." Dakota sobbed into her dirty hands. It felt wrong not knowing what was going on with her, we always told each other everything no matter what. I knew it was wrong, but I still felt betrayed.
"Yes, you can." I whispered painfully, my throught was sore from my toilet bomb. "We're sisters."
"Forever?" She whispered back just as softly. This reminded me of when we were little kids. Whenever we were afraid, hurt, or sad and the other wanted to help we would always ask the same thing.
"Sisters Forever." I stated holding up my hand to hers and laced our fingers together, as if forming a secret knot.
My answer gave her confidence to say what she had been holding back before, but it was like she forgot what we were talking about, something she rarely did.
"Who's blood is that, Kota?" I reminded gently. Seeing the sadness and horror in her eyes, I braced myself for the worst.
"Spencer's." Dakota's broken sob was like a stab in the heart. The blood that was now on my hands belonged to my only brother.
Without thinking, I pulled away from my sister and pushed myself against the cool tiled wall. Dakota's trembeling body remained in the tub staring at me with such fear in her eyes, I knew something was wrong. My body went cold as I heard the sirens loudly screach down our street.
"What did you do?" I screamed in terror, for myself, my brother and for my sister. She just shook her head violently from side to side, sending her drenched brown hair flying.
"Where is Spencer?" The sirens were outside our house now, my cry was louder still. I heard Mom and Dad running to our room. I quickly closed the door to the bathroom and locked it as they threw open the main door.
"Oh, God, please." I sobbed.
Dakota had stood up weakly with the knife still clutched in her bloody hand. Tears streamed down her horrified face. I felt my own drop from my cheek.
"Vee," She slipped our of the tub and landed hard on the floor. I crouched over her sobbing body, comforting it the best I could. The question still hung in the air.
Where is Spencer?