I Hear You Even When You Can't Speak

Chapter 1

There's a dark secret that haunts my family, a secret we paint over with expensive polish,

cover in lavender cream

and splatter with Chanel fragrance.

I am the youngest daughter and I am really sick.

My bedside drawers spill with empty medicine bottles.

There are random tablets on the floor crushed by designer stilettos and

under the silk linen of my mattress, there are many pieces of broken glass.

There are a few cracks on the white, white marbles – you couldn't walk inside without having to comment on how overly white it is – and stuffed at the bottom of my pink rubbish bins, there is gauze and tissues and sticky Band-Aids.

But I am Summer Lias, and somehow, that name says something.

It says something about the millions my father makes in his engineering business, the Hermes bags that line my mother's closet and the white, opulent walls that mark the marble columns of my house.

It also says something about our white, white skin, bleached, hazelnut hair, and water thin waist. The perfectly trimmed trees that line the entrance of our house and the immaculate fountain that catches the eye of any dog-walkers passing by. There is a white fence with a security guard at the door every day, gardeners that tame the garden and cleaners who spend their time removing any minute, black stain from these walls.

I welcome you to my family, where I am not sick.

I had just spent the past few months lounging in Hamilton Island, a small, sleepy town on the coast of Australia, where the water is clear and the sand melts like oozing chocolate between your toes. The sun seeped into my skin as I laid sunbathing on the beach, surrounded by fashion magazines, as I flaunted my bright pink bikinis and sipped on coconut water. Mother received oil massages by the pool house and father went snorkeling. We had grilled seafood platters at fancy restaurants by the shore and went on boat trips and watched sunsets.

By the time our flight came to take us home, I was awfully sunburnt and peeling. My skin bubbled and became coarse and scaly, covering my back, arms and legs in red pain. Because I am terrified of more sunburn and humiliation, I stay inside most days.

I feed our dog, Mocha, and go swimming in our infinity pool. I make cocktails and drink them on the balcony, rereading series of books. I write university applications and dream of big cities and travelling and new adventures. Mother brings home nice clothes and I wear them at our dinner parties every week. I talk to Alison and Emma on the phone and receive postcards from Luke in Paris. I play tennis in the backyard and bake cookies.

I do not speak of Robby or Sorrento or what happened to my sister.

I wear pretty dresses and smile.