“Do I have to?” a stupid question that made her smile, fuck why does she have to smile? “If they kill me I want you to know that I love you.”

She laughs, shaking her head shit when she looks at me like that I feel like an idiot. Fuck I would wear a clown suit with the red noise if it made her laugh. Or a white dress that made me look like I was two.

“You’re going to be fine…I already told my mom.” that smile that makes anything okay, “you just have to worry about the rest.”

Fuck me, I am dead they all hate me. I feel like I’m about to walk in front of a firing squad, only that would be better, at least faster. The door opening, and I nearly fall out, fuck I can remember the first time I walked up this path way. I can remember the last when Carlos pushed me out, fuck that was a mistake. What would it have been like if they let me see her then? Does she know?

“Carmen!” they all greet her, waving her over and it almost feels like I’m invisible.

A sense of relief, and the sinking feeling that they really do hate me. That they think I’m dirt and it’s true but I am going to do what ever the fuck I have to…to show that I love her. Thoughts of her sitting here with them, talking like we use to and I hate it. They look, there eyes questioning, full of curiosity and I want to run.

“Chane…I would like to speak to you.” her voice the same; turning to her I see that she looks the same a few more lines around the eyes but the same mom.

“Uh, yeah o-ok.” her hand squeezing mine I swear that I can’t breath anymore, god why the hell did I come?

If I turn around right now I can make a quick break, but instead I am drawn into following her. The rich smell of the food, her sisters talking, stops as we walk through. Looking around the counter filled with food, a picture of the whole family in a frame on the wall. The creak of the stairs under our feet, trying to swallow this lump that threatens to choke me. She opens the door to her room, and I am hit with the memory of that day her hands running over me and the paralysing fear of the door opening.