Lost sisters (Five minutes freewrite)

I struggle to see that far. So far back in time - what is it now , 30 years ago? I bet you can see them, you're younger, you don't even need glasses yet, do you?

The rules of the game were always the same. No fairy tales for the two of them. It had to be a total disaster, that was all the fun. The unfortunate Mr. Monkey was Elsa's favorite toy so she got to play with him, which worked just fine for her sister Christine. Being older, Christine always came up with new and outrageous ideas for the monkey's wedding. Like the time he got married to with the rag doll that had a drinking problem and sent him out in the middle of the night to buy her champagne. Or that time when the stuffed bunny in a green dress played the bride, who turned out to be the daughter of an undertaker and had Mr. Monkey wear clothes taken from people who had died of horrendous diseases. Little Benjamin wasn't allowed to play with them as he would be so grossed out he'd run to Mommy to tell on them. But the girls couldn't get enough of the wedding game and they always ended up rolling on the carpet shrieking with laughter.

They were too young back then to wonder what made them play out so many vicious stories, words like broken home had no meaning to the girls who couldn't care less how was it that they ended up being half-sisters. Whose faults it was - that was grown-up stuff and the grown-ups in their family would rather not talk about the past.

It was just a game, Elsa, it never meant anything. I wish I knew when was it that you lost that innocent whole-hearted laughter, what put it into your head that happiness was a sin. When did you decide not to take a chance on life, when did you decide you weren't going to end up like Mr. Monkey trapped in an awful marriage. Don't blame it on father, please - I'm sure he didn't choose to die when you were so young.
Maybe I should have seen it coming when you wouldn't stay at my wedding reception. I could tell you were lying and there was no sign of one of your famous headaches. If you must know, I was a bit hurt you would not even call when Brad left me and the girls. That smirk on your face when we met at grandpa's funeral!
I hear you still have Mr.Monkey, he's grown old, well past his prime, just like you. Yes, I know, I'm not the one to talk about age. Weird, I'd rather meet the monkey, share some stories over a cup of coffee. I bet there's more laughter left in that old toy than there is in you. You and me - we're the grown-ups now and we don't talk about the past.

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge. Today's prompt was: Monkey's wedding! Check out her blog and join our freewrite community.

Image - that is the actual Mr. Monkey mentioned in the story!

Thanks for reading!