Title: Aunt Helen's Hands
Aunt Helen, your hands are pale and small and white and smooth
Your hands are dimpled where your fingers meet the back of your palms
Your hands are thin and helpless and lost and confused
When I look at the lines on your hand, though I’m just a child, I know each one has a story
Your hands are red, but not in the usual way when they’re flushed with a faint glow of blood within, because the blood is out
Aunt Helen, your hands are dirty with the blood flowing steadily from your wrists
Your hands are shaking and the rest of you is small
I swear, your hands are growing and they’re all I can see
I turn them over and they lay flat on the table
Your fingers are lifting slowly
They’re shaking more and more
Aunt Helen, you are a pawn, because you let him play you in his twisted game
Guess what Aunt Helen?
You lose, because you’re the one hurt, I’m the one scared, and he’s the one laughing
Aunt Helen, why did you do it? Tell me. What did it fix? Anything?
Aunt Helen, when you’re green eyes look at me, I cry. You tell me it fixed your feelings. I don’t understand, coz I’m only six. Aunt Helen…. I just wanna let you know… you didn’t tell me why. Aunt Helen. I really miss you.
*Note this is not about me or anyone I know. I did not really come up with this scene. The Perks of Being a Wallflower offered a scene similar, and I wrote in Charlie (main character)’s point of view as a teenager looking back on discovering his aunt cutting her wrists when he was younger.
