Swallowing down the pain and helplessness she felt at her father's words, Celeste opened the door to their room and found Carlie laying on her bed, sobbing into the pillows.  Taking a deep breath, her first reaction was to yell at her sister and tell her to snap out of it.  But she knew that wouldn't work, so she sat on her bed across from Carlie's and pulled off the heels she had been wearing.<br/><br/>"Do you remember how dad was when mom left?  How heartbroken he was and all that time that he wouldn't do anything or even smile?  How we had to take care of ourselves?  Well look at dad now.  He's smiling.  And happy.  He hasn't worried over mom in almost a year, Carlie.  And it's because of what I did. What you saw."<br/><br/>Staring at the far wall, Celeste knew that it would be harder for her sister than for her because she remembered having to learn to do laundry and dishes and make lunches for them and clean the house.  To do all the things that a wife and a mother should do.  Or that a father would take on when there was no mother.  But their father had been hurt so bad that Celeste had done it.<br/><br/>"I know what you're thinking.  Why me and not you.  I did it Carlie.  It wasn't daddy that started it.  I did.  So if you want to hate somebody, hate me.  But dad doesn't need anymore hurt.  You know that too."<br/><br/>With a shrug of one shoulder, Celeste looked at her sister.<br/><br/>"Whatever you want to say, tell me.  I'll answer your questions and tell you what you want to know.  But don't take it out on dad."