I want to die.
I'm a coward.
Why take the hard way?
Why would you make yourself suffer?
Why let them talk?
Why let them whisper?
Why let them point?
Why let them kill?
Why let them rape?
Why let them tear your life apart piece by piece.
I remember.
The day she came home. The day she came back to us.
But just by looking at her you could tell she wasn't the same.
Something bad happened to her and the monster that did it got away.
I remeber.
The points. The whispers. The death wishes.
I remember.
The rubs. The taking off of clothes. The forcing. The hits. The alcohol.
I remember.
The deaths.
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Flashback
It's been two months now. Two fucking months since she got plucked out of our lives.
I kept telling my self she left on her own. She just wanted to be by herself for awhile.
So I stayed the same normal, happy, beautiful girl that everyone loved, fooling myself that she was just gone for awhile.
But then two months turned to 4. Then 4 months turned to a year. But I kept fooling myself.
Then in the middle of the night the news came.
She didn't leave. She was taken. But she was found.
But she wasn't the same girl.
The light that was once in her eyes wasn't there. They were dull and lifeless.
She barley talked. She barley ate. And I never knew why.
My hate for the world wasn't that strong then. I thought 'Well the world gave her back.'
And then one day she told me. She told me how she felt and why she felt it.
She wasn't just taken. She was raped.
My anger for the world grew.
She didn't want to live.
Why would the world make her.
My parents knew. My parents didn't want to tell me.
My sister was destroyed.
She told me that no matter how much she tried she couldn't stop feeling it. She couldn't stop feeling useless.
She couldn't stop feeling what I felt now.
Her being sad made me sad. But not the kind of sad I am now.
She ended it. While I was sleeping, she went to that bridge. She left me a letter saying why.
Saying how much she loved me. Telling me not to be fooled but to keep going.
That made me sadder. But not the sad I am now.
People whispered. They talked. Saying they liked my sister better. It should've been me going through all that.
All her pain and suffering.
Why would they wish that on someone just to have someone they liked more alive?
I went through it with her though. That's what they don't understand. Every tear drop. Every attempt. Every letter. I was the one that was there.
Would I switch places with her? Yes. I would If I could.
This also made me sad but not as sad as I am now.
My dad was still alive then.
It's funny what alcohol can do to a person.
One minute they can be your dad, your family. Then the next they can be the person that pushes you past the braking point.
I remember it. Every detail of it. Just like my sister did. Except she had it worse.
My dad never got that far.
He kissed me. He unclothed me. He rubbed me. He hit me. He forced me. But he never took my virginity.
He was planning on it but he died before he could.
The police say he was drunk.
Drove right of the side of the cliff and fell to his death.
They say he most likely didn't feel anything, but I wish he did. I wish for him to feel the pain that he caused.
But I still love him. Because it wasn't him that did it. It was the alcohol. At least that's what I tell myself.
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I don't let myself feel pity. Or any other emotions. I keep them bottled up inside me. But I know the cap is ready to blow.
All my emotions from the last few years are ready to be felt.
But I'm not ready to feel them. I never will be.
I can look back on those memories and remember what they felt like but don't actually feel them.
I think if I feel them again the depressed hole that I'm in will just go deeper.
Sometimes I want the cap to blow. So people can truly see or maybe even feel what I feel or felt.
I know that's bad but people don't understand. I don't think they ever will unless they feel the pain. Truly feel it.
But I know I won't let them. I even try to protect them from seeing me feel those feelings.
So if they ever say the 3 words every girl like me dreads:
"Are you okay."
Every girl like me will lie with our fake smiles and dried eyes and say:
"I'm fine."
