Anaïs vii.

The rest of the story can be found here: http://youngwritersproject.org/node/47155
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Once upon a time I had a sister. I don't have her anymore. She didn't become gone from getting sick or getting in a car accident, she became gone from being an artist. See, artists are different from the rest of everyone because artists feel everything. Artists feel everything & they're only artists because they need art so that everything doesn't build up & they don't explode. If they stop making art, it's like closing the lid on a soda bottle & shaking it furiously. They explode. My sister didn't learn she was an artist until it was too late. She couldn't get enough art out & by the time she turned 16 she exploded inside. On the outside it was nothing more then a quick drop with a sudden stop. Everyone said it had "accident" written all over it, & maybe it was because I was 12 & generally pretty oblivious, but I didn't see "accident" written anywhere.