(Previously published in Canada's Raw Ficiton Magazine, 1995, under the name G.M. Sherrill. The magazine is now defunct. Author maintains copyrights.)


This morning, my sister tried to kill herself again. She does this about once a month. My parents say she's just trying to get attention, but I think she's disturbed.

The first couple of times, they made a big deal out of it, took her to the hospital and everything. Now, they just tell her to clean up the blood. I think she'll really do it sooner or later.

I tried once, too, but not like that. I took my mom's sleeping pills and my dad's Valium. They took me to the hospital and the doctors and nurses made a big fuss, trying to get me to tell them what's wrong with me and why I did it, but I didn't talk. Eventually, my parents decided it was a ploy to get my curfew moved up, and they brought me home. I still haven't told why I did it, but now I can stay out until one. I don't go out a lot anyway.

Nobody else knows about all of this stuff because my parents haven't told anyone. The neighbors never got wind of it, since nobody ever called 911. And we aren't allowed to tell "our friends" (yeah, right) because we would be the butt of every joke in town, Mother says. None of our relatives know, either. Not that it would matter if they did. Who would believe it, anyway? After all, Mother and Daddy are real Pillars of the Community.

That's what everybody calls them. Once, when I tried to talk about it to a counselor at school, she said that. She said, "Kelly, your parents are Pillars of the Community. Why would you tell me these wild stories about them? You need to appreciate everything you have, girl. Hurry, now, get back to class."

You know how on TV the school always gets involved and goes to bat for the kid? It's bullshit. Especially here, where everybody knows everybody else's business. Nobody believes you if they know your parents.

Tonight, after Julie's "episode," my dad came to my room to talk to me. He told me that Julie's having a hard time at school, and that everything's going to be okay, and Mother said she wouldn't drink anymore. He said he still loved me, and was I still his little girl? Then he kissed me and slid his hand up under my t-shirt.

After he left my room, I went in the bathroom and threw up. Then I took a hot bath.

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