dear lola,
stop. i hear it. everyday. you screaming. screaming for help. i would've helped. i'm sorry, but please stop.
lola, you can't keep doing this to me anymore. i hate listening to my sister's screaming. i come home and suddenly the piercing sound rings into my ear.
i shrivel up on the couch and my eyes close. tears stream down my face. mom and dad run into the living room and try to calm me, but how can i?
you're screaming right now, and i am slowly carving these words onto the page, but it's hard with the blood-curdling noise echoing everyone word.
"help." you scream. and sometimes i feel like screaming it too. i need you to stop. only problem is that you're gone and that you'll never receive this.
YOU ARE READING
letters to her voice
Teen Fiction"what happened at school today, harlem?" "i created a tornado of glass." "you could have killed chester macavee." "at least i didn't kill him, like lola." {letters with .5 are thoughts but never written} {lowercase intended}
