The doctor murmured something to my parents. When he finished speaking, Mom and Dad were in worse condition then before. Mom was sobbing hard and Dad looked terribly glum. I couldn't understand why. I took it upon myself to figure out. I asked them repeatedly but they didn't reply. After a while, Dad said that it had something to do with the message we received earlier. That explained why Dad came in the middle of the school day to pick me up for the urgent emergency. I thought it was about time for me to know what that message was all about and so I questioned them. Dad started rambling on about how it wasn't for me to know and that I wouldn't be able to understand and I told him to get to the point. He sighed deeply, and said that my sister was autistic. A sudden shock pierced me. Why did this happen? It just wasn't possible. She seemed so normal, so ordinary. I looked at the zoned out baby, looked directly at her. There was no way and so I told Dad. A single tear was rolling down his cheek. He said it was possible and it was confirmed she had a difficult autism to handle. I couldn't believe it. But sometimes the truth is hard to accept. After a couple of moments of silence, I made a promise to myself. Right then, I told myself that nothing could hinder the sisterly love my sister and I already shared, not even autism. She was perfect and flawless, and I should do my very best to help her along with her life. After all, she was the one that made me feel more alive than in forever.