It was December 20 1989, the first day she was coming home. This small bundle of screaming, crying, smelly baby, with a little touch of cuteness, was introduced to me as my baby sister, also known as Karen.
             Through the years, Karen and I have gotten along as well as expected, fighting over small toys or time in front of the television.
             As a child, Karen seemed to have difficulty in school remembering the spellings of words or mathematics. She also had trouble paying attention but no one noticed her problems at the time. Still getting older, Karen began being bullied in school. She had trouble making and keeping friends. Then, into high school, she was mixed up in what one might call the "wrong group of friends". They made fun of her and tormented her. Despite what they did, these were her friends, and no one could convince her otherwise. Going into her sophomore year of high school, I tried to get her into some of the positive things I did, like color guard and the girl's tennis team, hoping she would like them and keep with it, ditching her old ways and her old friends. However, that did not happen. In the middle of her sophomore year, she decided she did not want to live at home. She hated being there. She hated everyone who lived there. This was the first major turning point in her life. Karen then started to run away from home at least once a week, filling our household with craziness. The last time she ran away from home, my parents were advised to send her to a group home. Thinking of Karen's best interest, they did so, and she seemed to like being there for the first six months. The staff would take everyone to movies, the mall, to football games, amusement parks, and out to eat.
             To her there was no better place to be. She lived with a dozen other teenagers that were all in similar situations. She had others to relate to and talk to whenever she needed that kind of attention. However, just l...