We Ate the Dark

by Mallory Pearson

Hundreds of days strung together by the fragile wire of her waking alarm, long afternoons bent over a wheel, sleepless nights lying listless on stale sheets. Life had been on fast-forward since the moment her sister winked out of the world, each day a hurtling mess of minutes that left her scrambling for purchase.

for all her containment and impulsiveness, felt so deeply, gave everything she had to the people she loved. Once you were hers, it was impossible to break that hold.

It had been easier once, to love them, to be loved by them. It was an unavoidable thought. But the rules could be suspended for a moment, each touch just a passage of time conveying something left unsaid. Nothing was okay, but things were changing, and some things were staying the same, and the least she could do was try to keep up with them all.

Why was it that her most vivid recollections were moments of devastating self-doubt?

How was she supposed to live like the rest of them, in a place that only ate away at her, without demanding something more?

Mood

Straight girls got to be affectionate with one another all the time. Why did every minute have to be a coming out? Why did she have to flay herself open for these people who cared nothing about her?

How pathetically she hoped that one day her sister might come home and tell her she regretted going, that she’d always had everything she needed, right there, at home in the farmhouse and sleeping down the hall.

There was a time not so long ago when all she could hold was her grief, so heavy in her hands. Now it was wonderful to hold the memories at all. She clutched them close.