Memories

Even now
With four months passed
The memories are as deeply scared in my soul as when they were first carved
Simple things trigger the worst of memories
Cranberry juice, nail-polish, and supper-glue
All common things you expect to find in a house
But I will never be able to use them again with out vivid flashbacks and a concealed tear or two
Senses like smell, touch, sight, and sound torture me
Constantly reminding me of what I can't talk about
What no one will really ever understand

On a psychotic rampage
She mixes up a drink of death for me
"Come on drink it, it's just a bit of alcohol and cranberry juice."
I Deny but she keeps insisting
Finally I give in saying okay I'll taste it
"No you have to drink it all." She says
We go back and forth

Her hands around my throat
Obstructing my contact with oxygen
I don't scream
I don't punch or hit her
I just lay there on my bed and take it
Twisting my arms around
Hurting so bad like they would snap
But I don't give in
I can't give in

Her hands try to pry my lips open
Force me to drink it
I don't understand
What did I do
What is going on
What happened to my sister?
My loving caring sister
My sister who always begged me to let her dress me up

She finally gets so frustrated
The next thing I know the drink is all over me
Dripping down my wall
Covering my bed
Mixing with the fresh river of tears

Shock fills me when the scent hits my nose
Nail-polish remover
She just tried to kill me

Tears pouring down as I call
As I call the one person who I can always count on
Then for a second time this school year
I dial 9-1-1 with shaking hands
And sobs muffling my voice

I hear her down stairs
I know she's not gonna hurt me right now
But still my breath catches in my throat
I can tell by the loud sobs coming from down stairs
That my sister is back
My real sister
The one who helps me out when I'm sick

The drink is drying on my skin and hair
Sticky and smelly
All I can do is sit there and wait with her

A sigh of relief exits my body
Dad is here just a few minutes after the cop comes

It'd be pretty damn hard for someone to understand what I'm going through
The words the police officer says
I know he doesn't understand
He doesn't understand that it wasn't really her
It wasn't really my sister who tried to kill me
It was her disease and the medicine

After watching my sister be taken away in hand cuffs
I finally go upstairs and change my shirt

The sounds of my friend's concerned voice
The feeling of an angel coming to rescue me and take me away

Though the drink no longer burns my skin or sticks to my wall
The drink no long soaks through my sheets
The scent no longer fills my room
And I have my sister back
My real sister
Even with all of those things
The smell is stored in a memory
A memory containing graphic pictures
and deafening sounds

I can't even look a bottle of nail-polish remover
Or even the nail polish with out reopening fresh wounds

I do the best that I can
With no example to judge whether I'm over reacting
Or should be able to handle this better
I must go with the words of the ones who know
That say I'm doing well
And I'm staying strong

The tears resurface and the memories come back
Whether willingly or not
These memories are frequently revisited
The wounds are slashed open
Slashed open after just beginning to heal

Reviews

[sisyqueen2008]

i think that's terrible what happenend to you, but at least look at what didn't happen. also i know what you mean when someone does something that you know they would never do and it seems that something's took over and controled them. the medical condition or medince that she had might of done it, but i wish for you to heal and i am deeply depressed to hear about that.