"my sister started wearing a locket around the time she began shoving her fingers down her throat. she did this awful thing to herself so she could 'be pretty' like all the other girls. everyone always asked her what was in the locket, and she always replied with a sad smile and said, 'the death of me.' no one knew exactly what she meant until the day her organs shut down because her body couldn't handle what she was doing to herself anymore. i was only eleven at the time i walked up to the casket at her funeral with a friend of hers from school. everyone that stood in line waiting to see her whispered nervously about what was in the locket that made everyone that saw her so upset. finally, it was our turn. the locket was open for once, and instead of seeing a picture, i saw a mirror. we killed her. we all did. we just didn't know we were doing it until it was too late. with each compliment we neglected to give her, or each glance we didn't bother to spare her; we killed her."
-i took part in a murder but the prison is within my own head
YOU ARE READING
life & other lies.
Short Storya collection of short stories that are supposed to make you feel.
