that’s probably knocked up by some PIECE OF SHIT. Unless, SON, you’re the one that acts like a whore and goes to, where, Katie?” I hear my mom mutter something, but I can’t be certain because all I hear are the loud puzzle pieces clicking together and the sound of a little girl’s heart shattering—the sound of a little girl, if it had a sound, becoming a slut, a piece of trash in her daddy’s eyes. However, through all of that, I hear my Daddy scream, “Airport MOTEL!”
I can’t tell you exactly what happens after I realize that my daddy is looking at me like I am the carrier of airborne AIDS. The next thing I remember is being slammed against the wall and my bare feet leaving the carpet with my daddy’s right hand around my throat. I remember everything going black right as I watch my baby brother tackle my daddy from behind.
My last coherent thought is, What in God’s name have you done to your family, Lil? Your mom is huddled in the corner, screaming at your daddy to stop choking his daughter, and your baby brother, who is two feet shorter than your daddy is trying to pull him away, punching with every ounce of fight he has in him.
As my vision tunnels and things go dark, I hear Lilly whispering, “Thank God summer is fucking over.”
Then my world turns black.
R emember that mental snapshot I took of Leo right before I got out of his car? That is the image I cling to night after night for an entire year.
Because I never see Leo again.
He becomes like a ghost, a myth, or something I may have dreamed up. And at times this makes me question my own sanity. Darkness and depression become my refuge; they comfort me like close friends.
I don’t eat, and when I sleep, I wake up screaming in pain, clutching at my heart. I stop speaking to anyone and everyone. My grades sophomore year plummet, and I barely pass the eleventh grade.
In this dark recess, I lose any friends I may have had. I do write; I fucking write constantly. I write poems. I write Leo’s and my story over and over again. And in the stillness of the night, I slip outside the house with my cigarettes and I read our story until dawn.
I read our story only for the purpose to feed these new masochistic urges that have recently surfaced within me. If I feel the pain, if I pick at the scabs and scars on my heart and make them bleed, it solidifies that the love Leo and I had was real. It was real and beautiful and now it’s gone.
My weight has dropped to nearly seventy pounds. My skin is pale because I hate the sun—hell, I hate summer. My once thick, shiny blond hair is now thin, dull, and stringy.
I can’t even tell you how it happened, but somehow I started dating Clark. He’s cool, I guess. He doesn’t ask questions, and he doesn’t talk a lot. We mainly either fucked or just stayed drunk and high the whole summer. Clark and I have no delusions of happy ever after. I think this is the main reason I keep him around. Well, that and he supports my new habits that help keep him away.
It’s the first day of my junior year of high school. Allen is in the passenger’s seat, and he is totally stoked about starting high school today.
“Ok, Lil, so at lunch, if I can’t find Robert and Lee, I can come hang out with you and your friends at your table, right? That’s cool with you?”
I snicker at a red light while lighting up my morning smoke, inhale, and on an exhale tell him, “Allen, babe, your sis doesn’t have any friends. I fuckin’ fly solo, and that’s when I do go to school. Plan on skipping at least two or three days a week, little bro.”
“Wait, you skip? Where do you go? And what the hell do you mean you don’t have any friends? I know you hang out with Clark. What about his friends?”
As I pull into the school’s parking lot looking for a spot, I tell Allen, “Right, okay, buddy. First of all, everyone skips school— EVERYONE . Second, Clark doesn’t have any friends either. At least none that I know of,
I can’t tell you exactly what happens after I realize that my daddy is looking at me like I am the carrier of airborne AIDS. The next thing I remember is being slammed against the wall and my bare feet leaving the carpet with my daddy’s right hand around my throat. I remember everything going black right as I watch my baby brother tackle my daddy from behind.
My last coherent thought is, What in God’s name have you done to your family, Lil? Your mom is huddled in the corner, screaming at your daddy to stop choking his daughter, and your baby brother, who is two feet shorter than your daddy is trying to pull him away, punching with every ounce of fight he has in him.
As my vision tunnels and things go dark, I hear Lilly whispering, “Thank God summer is fucking over.”
Then my world turns black.
R emember that mental snapshot I took of Leo right before I got out of his car? That is the image I cling to night after night for an entire year.
Because I never see Leo again.
He becomes like a ghost, a myth, or something I may have dreamed up. And at times this makes me question my own sanity. Darkness and depression become my refuge; they comfort me like close friends.
I don’t eat, and when I sleep, I wake up screaming in pain, clutching at my heart. I stop speaking to anyone and everyone. My grades sophomore year plummet, and I barely pass the eleventh grade.
In this dark recess, I lose any friends I may have had. I do write; I fucking write constantly. I write poems. I write Leo’s and my story over and over again. And in the stillness of the night, I slip outside the house with my cigarettes and I read our story until dawn.
I read our story only for the purpose to feed these new masochistic urges that have recently surfaced within me. If I feel the pain, if I pick at the scabs and scars on my heart and make them bleed, it solidifies that the love Leo and I had was real. It was real and beautiful and now it’s gone.
My weight has dropped to nearly seventy pounds. My skin is pale because I hate the sun—hell, I hate summer. My once thick, shiny blond hair is now thin, dull, and stringy.
I can’t even tell you how it happened, but somehow I started dating Clark. He’s cool, I guess. He doesn’t ask questions, and he doesn’t talk a lot. We mainly either fucked or just stayed drunk and high the whole summer. Clark and I have no delusions of happy ever after. I think this is the main reason I keep him around. Well, that and he supports my new habits that help keep him away.
It’s the first day of my junior year of high school. Allen is in the passenger’s seat, and he is totally stoked about starting high school today.
“Ok, Lil, so at lunch, if I can’t find Robert and Lee, I can come hang out with you and your friends at your table, right? That’s cool with you?”
I snicker at a red light while lighting up my morning smoke, inhale, and on an exhale tell him, “Allen, babe, your sis doesn’t have any friends. I fuckin’ fly solo, and that’s when I do go to school. Plan on skipping at least two or three days a week, little bro.”
“Wait, you skip? Where do you go? And what the hell do you mean you don’t have any friends? I know you hang out with Clark. What about his friends?”
As I pull into the school’s parking lot looking for a spot, I tell Allen, “Right, okay, buddy. First of all, everyone skips school— EVERYONE . Second, Clark doesn’t have any friends either. At least none that I know of,
Similar Books
