Drop Dead Sisters (The Finch Sisters, #1)

by Amelia Diane Coombs

If you have an older sister, there’s a good chance that she’s almost killed you at least once since childhood.

the motto of my childhood. Shit happened and you didn’t die. Best of luck with your trauma and therapy bills.

not because we hate one another, because hate is an actual emotion you would need to have toward another person. No, we’re indifferent to one another, which I sometimes think is worse.

Oh, cool, she’s going the emotional “someday I’ll be dead” manipulation route. That’s a low blow, even for our mom. “Seriously—”

My sisters never understood me, which isn’t a crime, but their general disinterest in ever trying to understand me as an adult bothers me more than I’d like to admit. I almost wish we’d had some big fight, something I could point to as the reason for why we fell apart, but the truth is that we were never together to begin with.

Who voluntarily does this? Goes camping? I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m an indoor person. My skin has that bland, almost sickly glow of someone who usually keeps the company of a laptop, a Costco-size bin of cheese puffs, and a coffee-stained hoodie.

I feel attacked ;-)

When I’m around my family, it’s like I can’t escape the worst parts of myself.

Now, it’s fireworks time. Also known as the bane of existence for those with sensory disorders, dogs of all shapes and sizes, and veterans.

Dad explained, even though no one asked—as all dads love to do—

That's my kids' dad <3

“You’re really good at this,” I tell her, and it’s a genuine compliment, even if my default tone is snarky. I have the verbal equivalent of a resting bitch face.

Relatable

I’m not a big drinker—beyond the whole antidepressants-and-alcohol-interaction thing, I deeply dislike the feeling of being drunk—and the concept of bars stresses me out. Too loud, too many people, drunk people.

Anxiety can do a lot of funny things to your body. Pump it up with adrenaline, turn your gaze hypervigilant, your hearing fine tuned—a naturally occurring danger radar. But sometimes, it drains you, leaves you empty. And as I slump on that rock and consider my lack of options, my body feels more deflated than a Mylar balloon after a kid’s birthday party.