Failure of Freedom

Lay silently in a trashed room, the paint on the walls chipped and written over, the ceiling curved at the far right edge and try to figure out why your mother left your father with your sister.

Birds chirp in the open distance and the sun setting, casting dim shadows upon your bedroom wall. Lay your hand on your chest and feel it rise and fall, run your fingers over your rib cage gently, feeling each every individual bump and crook in the bones in your chest.

Does it feel familiar? Gripping the bed, knuckles turning white because the pain that floods over is too much to handle while fully relaxed. The distance is too much now, it’s slowly wearing out her name.

Hope when you find her again that your fingers still slot together perfectly as delicate pink fingernails dig into your pale skin for safety, almost comfort as raised voices start like the night before.

Pulling hair and painting faces while giggling over nothing as her dress flows with the breeze and you grip her tightly.

Only 16 years old had to parent your sister and times were hard but you’ll learn they get harder as the hands on your clock go round like a Carrousel that nobody wants to ride.

Miss her presence and her smell, miss everything about her but she’ll remain forever yours and Mummy will bring her back again when daddy drops down dead from the guilt he ignores but it’s finally catching up with him.