we are all broken
”Everything lies.” He says it again like she might have missed it, the words raw and raspy. Speaking is like trying to tear paper, like trying to dig up ashes. It hurts. Something prods at the blankets and he flinches away from it, scrabbling, nearly skittering right off the end of the bed in his desire to get away from it. He’s fully clothed under the weight of all the covers, though his shoelaces are untied and his crumpled shirt is damp with the sweat of a fever.
”We wrap them ‘round us like rope. Then we jump, and we hope they don’t hang us by the neck.” He pulls the blankets over his face and rolls over to face the other way. ”Maybe that’s what killed my Ma. She ran out of lies to hold her up, so she just cracked and broke on the cliffs.”
”We wrap them ‘round us like rope. Then we jump, and we hope they don’t hang us by the neck.” He pulls the blankets over his face and rolls over to face the other way. ”Maybe that’s what killed my Ma. She ran out of lies to hold her up, so she just cracked and broke on the cliffs.”
that’s how the light gets in
