[18+ ONGOING]
Josephine Devereaux has spent her entire life wishing she liked change & spontaneity. But when she gets accepted into Southern Chicago U's forensics program, change suddenly isn't so scary. Fast forward two years- she's a junior at the...
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I hadn't left my bed in the past twenty four hours.
Luckily, it was still a Sunday. We all stayed in last night considering how wiped we were from Friday night, so no one really suspected anything. This wasn't out of character for me.
Thing is, I hadn't eaten or gotten up much either. I took a couple pisses. I just couldn't do it. I mean, this happened occasionally. Small depressive episodes that lead to isolation. They were present sometimes, but I hadn't had one this bad in years.
Which isn't a surprise considering the bomb she dropped on me. But still.
I knew I wasn't going to class tomorrow. I'd go on Tuesday, but I've decided to change my normal routine to another routine.
You know, the usual routine I go through when my mother tells me that I apparently have siblings. That routine. Yup.
Fuck me.
No. Fuck her.
I'm twenty-one years old. Been a living, breathing human being for twenty-one long years. It's so interesting how one person can make me feel like I'm twelve. Like I wasn't a living, breathing human being for the past nine years. Like I made no progress.
I'm twelve years old, sitting on the top of the staircase, listening to my mom leave. I am supposed to be asleep, I have school tomorrow. I think we may be watching a Christmas movie in class since it's the day before out winter break starts. I'm excited. But now, I'm confused. I am supposed to be asleep, but I heard arguing, so I creeped out of my room, easily maneuvering the hallway so that I don't step on any of the creaky floor tiles. I hear my dad talking. Or more accurately, pleading. I hear words and phrases— please, don't do this, why, dead to me, daughters, help. I hear the door slam. I wonder why she left without waking us up to kiss us on the cheek beforehand. She always does that. She had been forgetting lately, but she remembers for the most part.
I never see her again.
I never hear her voice again, unless it comes through a distorted phone line.
What a cliché story.
Two sisters is a plot twist though. Guess she figured she wants to try again. Re-roll the dice until she gets two kids worth sticking around for. Looks like that lucky bitch beat the odds.
I wondered if my dad knew. If he had chosen to not tell us. If he did, I wouldn't be mad. Being mad was tiring. Being mad was reserved for my mom. I didn't have the energy to be angry at both of them.
It was currently a Sunday evening, around nine, and I figured I was just going to sleep soon. After all, sleep was the most convenient and enjoyable escape. I hadn't been able to pick up my phone off the floor since yesterday either. It's still facing down on the floor, untouched for almost an entire day. I just didn't have it in me to risk acknowledging any notifications from her that she may have left after my abrupt hang-up.
