Words: Lara Fox (she/her)
She would halt, a blank stare coming over her face, completely still, calibrating. I got quite scared in those moments, unsure of what she was thinking. I never felt I truly knew my sister.
My sister and I loved playing imaginary games. Our garden became a battlefield, our bathtub an ocean.
Sometimes, though, Lola wouldn’t be quite as interested in these worlds as I was. She would halt, a blank stare coming over her face, completely still, calibrating. I got quite scared in those moments, unsure of what she was thinking. I never felt I truly knew my sister. She was different from all my other friends, of course she was. Not just in the way that siblings are, we didn’t fight; she just had this stillness to her, a detached stoicism that was very foreign to me as a child.
But then we would be back to it. Embarking on our journey to fantastical faraway lands.
At an early age, it became apparent to me that my parents had different views from those of the parents at school. They didn’t go to any of the school fairs or come to playdates I had with other kids. I knew they couldn’t leave Lola alone for too long, but they also never seemed to want to be a part of that community. They hated all the new tech and refused to engage with it. That is, of course, until Lola arrived.
Secrets crawled and crept their way through my home. They hung on coat-hangers and wrapped themselves round bannisters, they perched on shelves and leered down from the top of the fridge. I was not allowed to talk about Lola at school, and certainly could not mention the time when my father was away. This was, until my mother could not take it anymore.
I was playing upstairs with Lola. I heard the front door open.
‘I’m so fucking fed up with you. I can’t keep doing this. What kind of effect do you think this is having on Nora? You need to start putting her first.’
‘Vicky, please, we have to keep going, it’s not right, I have a plan – you just-just listen. All this – everything I’ve done, it’s all for Nora!’
‘No! It’s too much. I should’ve let them keep you-’ She broke off. A long silence passed before my mother let out a sigh and said,
‘Can’t you see? It’s bizarre. I can’t have Lola in the house any longer.’
She slammed the door to her bedroom. Dad sighed and trudged up the stairs.
The door opened slightly.
‘Hi, Girls.’
‘Hello, Dad,’ said Lola.
I just looked at him.
He looked back at us, his eyes flickering between his children. He attempted a weak smile. All I could see behind it was defeat.
‘I’m just going to be in my office, got some more stuff to work on. Keep Lola in here, will you?’ He says to me and shuts the door.
I went to school with the same weak smile my father held.
Life carried on. I grew into myself. At home, Lola grew too. While creativity became my point of interest, intelligence became hers. Lola, with that same blank stare, would sit and let her ideas grow and multiply, warping and deepening with each day, culminating in her. Forming a vessel of vast intelligence. Sending her reports to the authorities.
Until. A night not long before my 16th birthday. Lola was glitching more than usual. As soon as my dad opened my bedroom door, I could see something was wrong – he reminded me of how he used to get just before Lola arrived. His eyes were sunken but alert. He looked at me, and I saw a flash of something cross his face. Remorse, sadness, fear. I’m not quite sure.
‘Come here,’ he said, but this time, he wasn’t talking to me. He felt gently behind Lola’s ear. I didn’t quite know what he was doing, but I remember begging him to stop, as she froze for the last time. My mum ran in after him, but she was too late. Not long after, the police showed up. That was the last time I saw my father.
Looking back, I don’t doubt my father’s bravery. I know he wanted a better world for me, something more like the one he grew up in. But I also know that’s not possible. As soon as Lola was brought home, an irreversible chain of events was set into motion. As soon as it began, it was too late to try to change it. She has, and always will be my sister.
I’ve spoken to people who had Lola’s too. There are groups that some of us have joined. It’s helpful to have others to talk to, to know it wasn’t just my family. We all agree that our parents were too late. The change had already started.
