My Sister Killed Herself
I've been getting back into my writing recently, both prose and poetry, but since I don't share prose very often, I decided to drop a short story in here today. :) Enjoy!
My Sister Killed Herself
With a clip-on tie from Woolworth. She did it in the old outhouse where we used to hide from our older brother when we were children. She sat in the dark, smelly cubicle and cut through her throat. Her name was Sayla. You know, like Layla, but with an S. She was sweeter than a sugar cake made with thick, dark molasses, and I loved her with all my heart.
We used to have the most fun together: going to the Drive-In to watch horror movies, reading books together by flashlight under our sheets at night. Sayla was my pal. My best friend. I never thought that I’d have to live without her.
I don’t’ think I can live without her. When I got in trouble for breaking the neighbour’s window with a cricket ball, Sayla was there with me, backing me up. She knew it was just an accident. When I accidentally swallowed that twenty-five cent piece, Sayla waited with me in the Accident & Emergency room at the QEH for hours. She never left my side once.
When I attempted to play a prank on the principal at secondary school and tied his shoelaces together under the podium at graduation, Sayla was the one who pulled me away and told the Police that I had Down’s Syndrome.
I don't think I'll ever get over Sayla's death. The fact that we were Siamese twins is making things even more difficult to deal with; our blood type is hard to come by and I'm going to need a new heart pretty soon. Like Yesterday. Yeah come to think of it, Sayla could be a real selfish bitch sometimes.
Whatever.
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