My sister calls about three times a year. We've never been close. I figured she needed a place to crash her drunk ass after missing her train back to campus, again. I only answered because it was late and a tiny part of me was nervous that it might be serious.
She was sobbing hysterically on the phone, so the news came out in a high-pitched squeak: "Do you remember Kelly? She overdosed. She died. This morning. Her step-dad found her in her bed."
Also read: The REAL reason why men cheat