He loves me, he is guilty for all the things he couldn’t save me from. I hate that. I hate the guilt. I take off my shoes and slide across the floor. It’s freshly waxed, Chris tells me, and I skate around like I’m six, not sixteen and Chris teases me for my socks, which … More I Don’t Trust Me

He asks how many pillows I’ve got and I tell him forty-two. We fortify the pillow fort and get drunk. I’m drunk enough that I start laughing at everything he says and he starts lisping. Words sound desperately funny to me. He hits me with his bony elbow and confirms he’s drunk. Then he closes … More I Trust You

My brother stands in the kitchen with a knife. He chops vegetables and I watch him, looking for signs of blood. He notices me and asks what the fuck I’m doing. I tell him I’m doing nothing and I don’t take my eyes off his hands, even as he points the knife at me and … More I Don’t Trust You