There is a scar on her knee from when she was seven years old and reckless and had limbs far too long for her small, thin body and she fell off her bike trying to show off for Oliver and Tommy. She was always falling for her brother, coming up blood and tears and an aching pain. There's a first time for everything, but she thinks there isn't a last time for this.
She sleeps with a boy who has Oliver's sardonic wit and Tommy's sparkling eyes when she's fourteen and he's seventeen and when she cries he asks her did I hurt you?; her heart breaks when she has to whisper back, no. She cuts herself with a knife while making breakfast the next day and Tommy wraps the bandaid around her finger carelessly, as if his skin upon her skin wasn't a prayer. She bruises her shin in volleyball practice and sits at Oliver's feet while he rubs the pain away in her neck carelessly, as if his skin upon her skin wasn't a blasphemer's ruse dragging her into darkness.
She thinks the world is unfair, giving her so much just within her reach and telling her she can't have them.
Oliver is gone so long she forgets the sound of his voice. She stays as far away from Tommy as she can, his bloodshot eyes mock her. She cuts little marks into her skin for every day that he is gone until the pain doesn't mean enough and then she bites and scratches at the bodies that line up for her taking. She is wealthy, she is a Queen, boys throw them at her feet and she punishes them for not being her brother and they can't quite hurt her because she's already broken.
There is a man in a green hood and he's stupid. He's stupid because she knows him and there's no disguising that. She plays along, she plays his stupid game and waits - she has a lot of practice waiting - for the truth. There's no truth. There's only a scar on her knee that proves that she can bleed.
Tommy knows. He knows everything. He knows everything except that she knows everything. He's tormented by it. She wants to take him by the hand, she nearly holds it out for him, but this is Oliver's game and so she smiles her practiced smile and he believes it is real. He needs it to be.
She's done. She's been done since she was seven years old and she realized that what she wanted she couldn't have. She's nearly on a train when a man with a bow and arrow tells her that he's her father and then everything makes sense. She still dreams of Tommy inside of her, but now she knows they are made of the same thing and that makes it okay somehow.
She kills him. He trains her until she's ready and when she's ready she kills him. And it is as simple as that. It's a tragedy. She comes home an orphan with a brand new brother to hug and kiss and tuck her in at night. She comes home and she has two brothers now, one light and one dark, and she puts them on either side of her and looks out at the world from behind oversized sunglasses that hide her pain (hide her glee and purpose).
They still pretend and she does the sisterly thing: she builds a home for them. She lets them pretend, lets them have separate rooms and bides her time. She pretends not to see the way they hold each other when she's not supposed to be looking. She pretends not to be waiting to be invited in.
sorry about the blood, it isn't all mine
There is a scar on her knee from when she was seven years old and reckless and had limbs far too long for her small, thin body and she fell off her bike trying to show off for Oliver and Tommy. She was always falling for her brother, coming up blood and tears and an aching pain. There's a first time for everything, but she thinks there isn't a last time for this.
She sleeps with a boy who has Oliver's sardonic wit and Tommy's sparkling eyes when she's fourteen and he's seventeen and when she cries he asks her did I hurt you?; her heart breaks when she has to whisper back, no. She cuts herself with a knife while making breakfast the next day and Tommy wraps the bandaid around her finger carelessly, as if his skin upon her skin wasn't a prayer. She bruises her shin in volleyball practice and sits at Oliver's feet while he rubs the pain away in her neck carelessly, as if his skin upon her skin wasn't a blasphemer's ruse dragging her into darkness.
She thinks the world is unfair, giving her so much just within her reach and telling her she can't have them.
Oliver is gone so long she forgets the sound of his voice. She stays as far away from Tommy as she can, his bloodshot eyes mock her. She cuts little marks into her skin for every day that he is gone until the pain doesn't mean enough and then she bites and scratches at the bodies that line up for her taking. She is wealthy, she is a Queen, boys throw them at her feet and she punishes them for not being her brother and they can't quite hurt her because she's already broken.
There is a man in a green hood and he's stupid. He's stupid because she knows him and there's no disguising that. She plays along, she plays his stupid game and waits - she has a lot of practice waiting - for the truth. There's no truth. There's only a scar on her knee that proves that she can bleed.
Tommy knows. He knows everything. He knows everything except that she knows everything. He's tormented by it. She wants to take him by the hand, she nearly holds it out for him, but this is Oliver's game and so she smiles her practiced smile and he believes it is real. He needs it to be.
She's done. She's been done since she was seven years old and she realized that what she wanted she couldn't have. She's nearly on a train when a man with a bow and arrow tells her that he's her father and then everything makes sense. She still dreams of Tommy inside of her, but now she knows they are made of the same thing and that makes it okay somehow.
She kills him. He trains her until she's ready and when she's ready she kills him. And it is as simple as that. It's a tragedy. She comes home an orphan with a brand new brother to hug and kiss and tuck her in at night. She comes home and she has two brothers now, one light and one dark, and she puts them on either side of her and looks out at the world from behind oversized sunglasses that hide her pain (hide her glee and purpose).
They still pretend and she does the sisterly thing: she builds a home for them. She lets them pretend, lets them have separate rooms and bides her time. She pretends not to see the way they hold each other when she's not supposed to be looking. She pretends not to be waiting to be invited in.
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