My sister, Jen, was pounding on the window, screaming my name. Jamar, open the fucking door, she said. I couldn’t open the fucking door because I couldn’t stand up. I had opened my stomach with a razor blade from as far around my back to the front of my body as I could possibly reach and cut. I had peeled myself open. Like an orange. Not deep, but deep enough to get the poison out. To get her voice out. Just hours before, I had read that she raped another man. His name was Sebastian.
