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| creem magazine, gigglechick, portland, thestranger, croatia, hannibal, suicidegirls, 1992, cheryl hines, indepth analysis, film reviews, adult, | She held onto your hand so tight that you knew when her strength was waning, when her last breath was coming just by the slow measure with which she let go. But club you still held her fingers until they started to grow cold before you let the nurses make you leave, got up to find your aunts club and tell them. It was four a.m. on the dot when she died, thereafter always the hour you most hated to be awake, the one you never again slept club through sober. You kept asking God to please take her, don't let her have been right, please take her someplace nice where everyone will treat her better than they did here. But it was hypocrisy since you didn't believe in God anymore anyway, had spent the past two years scoffing to your friends about your religious past and reading atheist manifestos. If He were punitive, your prayers might have done more harm than good. Really, like any God you could fathom was gonna listen to a perverted, disrespectful little fuck like you. II. Exorcism (aborted): So maybe it's after the fact, but by the way, I read all those books you used to talk about. |
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| The thought obsessed you more than the possibility of being beaten with the Bible had once. The biggest question of your life was: why waste your time with a prissy little bitch who can't come? Except then suddenly your mother got one big suicidegirls headache that wouldn't go away. That turned out to be a brain tumor and killed her fast, lying in a suicidegirls hospital bed with her sisters flown in from Boston praying around her like a gaggle of would-be nuns suicidegirls who were just too pretty for men to let get away unfucked. Your brother wouldn't set foot in the hospital, spent all his time with his friends like it wasn't happening. Your father too was useless, wandered the halls silently, unable to speak or offer comfort while she wept from the drugs, said she was afraid of going to Hell for having abandoned the church. You sat next to her in a vigil, would not let go of her hand. Whispered things to her that your three aunts (who you had come to refer to as "the witches of MacBeth") couldn't hear, God will be lucky to get you, don't be afraid, it will be beautiful, better than here. |
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