Sleeping
1/1.
It’s been three days since you have seen me.
• • •
It’s been thirty days since you walked in on me placing the needle into my arm, the pale, soft skin giving way under the bright silver of the needle. I looked at you with eyes like storm clouds and went back to shooting poison through my body.
You watched me drift off and wondered when the last time you'd had seen those clouds part was. You sat beside your baby brother’s bed and watched me slowly die, asking yourself if you had missed anything, if you should have known.
You decided that you’d ask me in the morning.
• • •
It’s been twenty-nine days since you woke up in the chair in my room, neck stiff from the awkward angle, bones cracking a little more than they did when you were a kid.
You went downstairs to the kitchen to find me, sunny and cheerful. I was wearing one of your wife beaters and my arms were as smooth as ever.
I was chattering on about something or other that you tuned out: some movie that I was going to with Edon.
You had learned to filter my speech and respond at the right times.
You decided that last night must've been a nightmare.
• • •
It’s been twenty-five days since you remembered that after an accident a few years ago I had used a type of putty to cover the cut until it could heal. It worked wonders. You couldn't even tell that there was anything wrong with me until you got me wet.
You remember making jokes about wicked witches melting and how I had been a little slow to laugh with you, how I had been a little too quiet.
• • •
It’s been twenty-three days since you started a fight while washing the dishes and managed to get me soaked. You were so very relieved when nothing came off of me but dirt from the garden.
• • •
It’s been nineteen days since you looked at my feet and thought that the bruising looked a little off. My feet have always looked like someone had taken a nine iron to them after a day spent in them, those boots where not meant to be worn for hours, after all, but my feet never looked that bad, even after our longest days.
• • •
It’s been eighteen days since you learned more than you had ever wanted to know about heroin addiction.
You had wanted to believe so badly that you were wrong, that that night with me had just been a really bad dream. Too much peanut butter dipped pizza and beer.
You told yourself that you were going to ask me anyway, just to be sure, as soon as I came back from my shopping trip with Edon.
• • •
It’s been ten days since Edon called to wonder why we hadn't been by in a while. You sat down and stared at the wall for a while. There were pictures of me on it.
You had to wonder why you didn't notice this earlier. Why you didn't notice the way the my face kept changing, how your brother had an almost manic light to his eyes.
I looked desperate in them. Like someone was holding my salvation just over my head and every time I came close they raised it that little bit higher.
• • •
It’s been five days since I came home and passed out for a day and a half straight.
You sat by my bed and watched me, eyes never leaving your brother’s face.
You waited for me to wake up so that we could talk, but ended up just staring at me and walking away.
• • •
It’s been three days since we talked, since lies and secrets where dragged into the open to lay rotting in our living room, great beasts that groaned and howled and tore us apart.
Three days since I pressed my lips to yours and you pushed me away. I walked out and didn't look back.
• • •
Today you got the phone call:
"This is Officer Gregory with Precinct 108.
I’m calling in regards to your brother. Is there any way you could come down to the station, I don’t think I should do this over the phone.”
They had found me floating in the river. Late stage decomposition. They needed someone to identify my body and you were on my emergency contact list.
They wanted to know when the last time we had seen each other was.
You told them three days. The looks they exchanged were enough to clue you in.
It’s been three days since you have last seen me alive.
It's been three days since I have been alive.
Today, you have to go home to an empty apartment and know that it is going to stay that way.
• • •
Tomorrow, our mother is going to get a call from Officer Gregory.
They need someone to identify the body, but your emergency contact is sleeping on the slab next to you.
• • •
It’s been thirty days since you walked in on me placing the needle into my arm, the pale, soft skin giving way under the bright silver of the needle. I looked at you with eyes like storm clouds and went back to shooting poison through my body.
You watched me drift off and wondered when the last time you'd had seen those clouds part was. You sat beside your baby brother’s bed and watched me slowly die, asking yourself if you had missed anything, if you should have known.
You decided that you’d ask me in the morning.
• • •
It’s been twenty-nine days since you woke up in the chair in my room, neck stiff from the awkward angle, bones cracking a little more than they did when you were a kid.
You went downstairs to the kitchen to find me, sunny and cheerful. I was wearing one of your wife beaters and my arms were as smooth as ever.
I was chattering on about something or other that you tuned out: some movie that I was going to with Edon.
You had learned to filter my speech and respond at the right times.
You decided that last night must've been a nightmare.
• • •
It’s been twenty-five days since you remembered that after an accident a few years ago I had used a type of putty to cover the cut until it could heal. It worked wonders. You couldn't even tell that there was anything wrong with me until you got me wet.
You remember making jokes about wicked witches melting and how I had been a little slow to laugh with you, how I had been a little too quiet.
• • •
It’s been twenty-three days since you started a fight while washing the dishes and managed to get me soaked. You were so very relieved when nothing came off of me but dirt from the garden.
• • •
It’s been nineteen days since you looked at my feet and thought that the bruising looked a little off. My feet have always looked like someone had taken a nine iron to them after a day spent in them, those boots where not meant to be worn for hours, after all, but my feet never looked that bad, even after our longest days.
• • •
It’s been eighteen days since you learned more than you had ever wanted to know about heroin addiction.
You had wanted to believe so badly that you were wrong, that that night with me had just been a really bad dream. Too much peanut butter dipped pizza and beer.
You told yourself that you were going to ask me anyway, just to be sure, as soon as I came back from my shopping trip with Edon.
• • •
It’s been ten days since Edon called to wonder why we hadn't been by in a while. You sat down and stared at the wall for a while. There were pictures of me on it.
You had to wonder why you didn't notice this earlier. Why you didn't notice the way the my face kept changing, how your brother had an almost manic light to his eyes.
I looked desperate in them. Like someone was holding my salvation just over my head and every time I came close they raised it that little bit higher.
• • •
It’s been five days since I came home and passed out for a day and a half straight.
You sat by my bed and watched me, eyes never leaving your brother’s face.
You waited for me to wake up so that we could talk, but ended up just staring at me and walking away.
• • •
It’s been three days since we talked, since lies and secrets where dragged into the open to lay rotting in our living room, great beasts that groaned and howled and tore us apart.
Three days since I pressed my lips to yours and you pushed me away. I walked out and didn't look back.
• • •
Today you got the phone call:
"This is Officer Gregory with Precinct 108.
I’m calling in regards to your brother. Is there any way you could come down to the station, I don’t think I should do this over the phone.”
They had found me floating in the river. Late stage decomposition. They needed someone to identify my body and you were on my emergency contact list.
They wanted to know when the last time we had seen each other was.
You told them three days. The looks they exchanged were enough to clue you in.
It’s been three days since you have last seen me alive.
It's been three days since I have been alive.
Today, you have to go home to an empty apartment and know that it is going to stay that way.
• • •
Tomorrow, our mother is going to get a call from Officer Gregory.
They need someone to identify the body, but your emergency contact is sleeping on the slab next to you.