My son, please take care of your sick sister. You must never abandon her!” – my mother whispered.

“Son, please look after your sick sister. Don’t abandon her!” whispered Mother.

“Listen, my boy” she breathed, barely audible.

Each word was agony. The illness had ravaged her without mercy. She lay withered in bed, her once vibrant presence now ghostly. Edward barely recognised her. She had been strong, smiling, full of life. Now

“Edward, please dont leave Margaret Shes delicate. Shes different, but shes ours. Promise me” Mother squeezed his hand with unexpected strength. Where she found such force, he couldnt fathom.

Edward grimaced. His gaze flickered toward his older sister, Margaret, who sat in the corner of their small London flat, playing with her dolls. Past forty, she still hummed tunelessly, lost in childish games. She smiled, as if unaware of their mothers deathbed, lost in a world of make-believe.

Edward had built a comfortable lifea construction firm, a luxury Range Rover, a grand house by the Thames. But there was no place for Margaret. His children were frightened of her, and his wife, Victoria, called her “mad,” though Margaret was harmless, gentle, innocent.

“But you know I have a family and Margaret is” he stammered, trying to free his hand from her grip.

“Son, your fathers house is yours,” Mother rasped. “For Margaret, Ive left a three-bedroom flat. Its all legal.”

“Where did you get the money?” Edward and Victoria exchanged stunned glances, their faces lighting with greedy astonishment.

“I cared for an elderly schoolteacher brought her meals, medicine She was kind. I never thought shed leave me the flat. I put it in Margarets name, so shed have shelter. But you you must watch over her, please Later, it will go to your children. Who knows how long shell live”

That night, Mother died.

Margaret seemed not to understand she was now orphaned. Edward took her in at once and began renovating the flat.

“Why does Margaret need so much space? Let her stay with us. We can rent it out.”

At first, Victoria didnt object. Margaret caused no troublejust played quietly, laughing to herself. But her oddities unnerved Victoria. “Shes calm today, but what about tomorrow?”

“Just be patient,” Edward pleaded. Yet six months later, with the help of a solicitor friend, he transferred both his parents house and Margarets flat into his own name. He tricked her into signing papers, never explaining what they meant.

Then the torment began.

While Edward was at work, Victoria abused Margaretshouting at her, locking her in her room, sometimes feeding her scraps meant for the cat. Hed find her crying, terrified. One day, Victoria struck her. Margaret, petrified, wet herself.

“Not just a simpleton, but you wet yourself too? Out of my house!”

She threw Margarets belongings into a bag and shoved her out the door.

“Wheres Margaret?” Edward asked that evening, stretching out in bed.

“She left!” Victoria snapped. “Pissed herself, locked herself in the bedroom. When I opened the door, she ran off with her bag. I wont chase after a lunatic!”

Edward said nothing. Then, softly: “Well, if shes gone” He turned on the TV. “By the way, I found tenants.”

The night was long. He thought of Margaret. Where was she? Helpless as a child. He barely slept, dreaming of Mother by dawn:

“I begged you, son” she spoke from the coffin, shaking a bony finger.

The dream haunted him for weeks. He couldnt bear it. Two months later, he called his godmother, Anne:

“So, Edward, conscience biting you?” she answered coldly. “Good thing I checked on your mother. Found Margaret trembling, took her in. Ill keep her. I dont want her flat. Live with your shame!”

“Oh, Anne” he muttered, hanging up. A weight liftedMargaret was safe.

But she died two months later, of the same illness as Mother. Edward didnt attend the funeralhe had “urgent business.”

Ten years passed. Now Edward lay ill, tormented by pain and regret. Victoria had left him for another man. His children visited rarely, wrinkling their noses: “You smell like sickness”

One day, Victoria strode in with papers:

“Sign these. Lets sort out the firm.”

He signed. Too late, he realisedit was the deed to his house. Then his company. He thought of Mother and Margaret. Tears rolled down his face.

“Forgive me” he whispered into the void swallowing him whole.

In the end, greed devoured him, leaving only regretproof that kindness neglected returns as sorrow.