It’s just a school night. I don’t like telling the truth. So my tongue only pleasures lies. My dad chugs medication as if it was water, a 50 year old man slashed my 13 year old innocence as I tried to sleep, and there’s a rope slithering in my hands that I’m planning to knot around my throat. Lie to them, don’t let them see that you’re worthless. I caress the rope, embracing the rough texture. Examining its tight twists and loose ends. Dad’s in the other room. Too high to notice the dark bloodshot eyes and conversations I’m carrying with myself. Do it, make it easier for your mother. Only thing I remember next is my lungs reaching for air. I never cared so little for what my body wants. Despair and emptiness fills the room. The rope unknots. I let gravity do what it pleases with my body and my lungs give me their say. Screaming, I wipe my makeup over my cheekbones and take in the ceiling. Pure silence and nothing breaks it but my sobbing.
There I slept. Rope still knotted to my neck.