Safe

Her name was Jessica and she was very brave.

People think she was a coward. They say she gave up, as though that was easy. They talk about other people who are still alive, as though bravery is based on your ability to breathe, as though calling these others “brave” can make up for their own gratitude that they are not one of these others.

“You are so brave. I don’t know how you endure.” They coo patronizingly. “Not like her.”

“It’s the coward’s way out.”

“It’s so selfish.”
“She had to know how much it would hurt us.” As though she owed it to them to suffer. So they could call her brave and sleep peacefully through the night, confident that, as bad as they had it – she had it worse.

Without a pariah to gauge your life against, how can you be certain of your own goodness?

Her name was Jessica and she was very brave.

I know. She went before me. I was too scared to go first. 

“But what if death is worse?” I had asked her. 

“It might be.” she had said. “If they’re right, He will punish us.” She blinked back tears, even though I had been weeping openly for awhile now.

“I’ll go first.” She said resolutely, “and then, I’ll come back for you.”

 She pulled me close for a hug and whispered, “I’ll see if it’s safe.” 

Just like she had every time we tried to run away. She would always go first. She’d get caught and punished before I ever got out of my bed. She would come back to our room, bleeding, welts rising, bruises forming, and whisper gently, “It’s not safe. Not just yet.”

It was never safe. Not for my sister. She never let me go to check.

“I’ll see if it’s safe.”

And though it never was, I was always safe. Because she went first.

I stayed with her body for hours, they tell me. She took the pills and we laid down on her bed. She put her arms around me and whispered, “I’ll see if it’s safe.”

I fell asleep, listening to the sound of her breathing as it slowed.

I’m still waiting for her. They took her body away and moved me from her bed, from our home to another bed, somewhere else. But I know she’ll be able to find me. She would never leave me behind.

Sometimes in my dreams, I can see her. At first she was so far away, she was just a vague impression of herself. But every night she gets closer. I’ve been storing my pills so I’ll be ready when she gets here.

Last night, she reached for me and whispered something I couldn’t quite understand. I wanted to join her then, but I promised not to go before she knew it was safe.

I’m awake, but I can see her when I close my eyes. For once, she’s not bleeding. There’s not a blemish on her skin.

Her name is Jessica. She is my sister. She is very brave.

She grabs my hand and smiles.

“It’s safe.”