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"What can I do to you? I'm only a shadow."
Wednesday, 9 July 2014 14:03Natalie was sitting on the floor of her bedroom, writing in her pink-purple journal about nothing much in particular, when she overheard yet another one of Mom and Dad’s epic fights. They happened about once a month, which wasn’t too bad considering everything lately.
It meant Mom’s meds were helping a little bit, at least.
Of course, no one paid any attention to her still, so that hadn’t changed.
Her cellphone went off and it could only be one person. Henry. Frowning, she let it go to voicemail because what else was there to do right now? No fucking way was she going to talk to Henry while Epic Fight was still going on. Sighing, she put her stuff away and stood slowly, walking to her bathroom because it was the only place that had a fucking lock on it and Mom couldn’t come bother her at least.
So she locked the door and turned on the water in the tub, looking down at it swirl around and around down the drain.
She’d thought about slitting her wrists a few times but then that would mean that he would win. And no fucking way in hell did she want to let him win.
Her brother. Nameless dead brother who seemed to still be in the house because Mom had to have his fucking cradle and shit put into a baby room down the hall from Natalie’s bedroom and bathroom. “Seriously, Dad, how the fuck could you let her do that?” She said it out loud as if that would make it real, more true, a question that he would finally have an answer for instead of just this morbid part of her life and home.
Natalie sunk to the floor, arms around her knees, wishing she’d brought her cellphone with her so she could at least text Henry through all the madness. The water slipping down the drain only seemed to quiet the screams instead of eliminating them like she’d hoped.
“Fuck you,” she whispered, meaning it to the brother she never knew who still had a hold on her life, on her family, on everything. Of course, part of her wished he wasn’t dead because then Mom wouldn’t be so messed up in the head, but what the hell did she know? If he was alive, things could still be bad. Worse, maybe. He’d be the Golden Boy and she’d be ignored even more.
She leaned her head onto her knees and held the tears at bay. People say the dead can’t hurt you, but what the hell did “they” know anyway?
Muse: Natalie Goodman
Next to Normal
Word Count: 433
It meant Mom’s meds were helping a little bit, at least.
Of course, no one paid any attention to her still, so that hadn’t changed.
Her cellphone went off and it could only be one person. Henry. Frowning, she let it go to voicemail because what else was there to do right now? No fucking way was she going to talk to Henry while Epic Fight was still going on. Sighing, she put her stuff away and stood slowly, walking to her bathroom because it was the only place that had a fucking lock on it and Mom couldn’t come bother her at least.
So she locked the door and turned on the water in the tub, looking down at it swirl around and around down the drain.
She’d thought about slitting her wrists a few times but then that would mean that he would win. And no fucking way in hell did she want to let him win.
Her brother. Nameless dead brother who seemed to still be in the house because Mom had to have his fucking cradle and shit put into a baby room down the hall from Natalie’s bedroom and bathroom. “Seriously, Dad, how the fuck could you let her do that?” She said it out loud as if that would make it real, more true, a question that he would finally have an answer for instead of just this morbid part of her life and home.
Natalie sunk to the floor, arms around her knees, wishing she’d brought her cellphone with her so she could at least text Henry through all the madness. The water slipping down the drain only seemed to quiet the screams instead of eliminating them like she’d hoped.
“Fuck you,” she whispered, meaning it to the brother she never knew who still had a hold on her life, on her family, on everything. Of course, part of her wished he wasn’t dead because then Mom wouldn’t be so messed up in the head, but what the hell did she know? If he was alive, things could still be bad. Worse, maybe. He’d be the Golden Boy and she’d be ignored even more.
She leaned her head onto her knees and held the tears at bay. People say the dead can’t hurt you, but what the hell did “they” know anyway?
Muse: Natalie Goodman
Next to Normal
Word Count: 433
