Where am I? I can’t feel anything. I know I’m in pain but I feel no pain. There is blood all around me. Glass, blood, mangled metal, that seat belt that was supposed to keep me safe. Dad’s eyes, staring at me. Dead and empty. No, no, no. He’s not dead. I can hear my little sister screaming, “Clare wake up! Clare wake up! Clarissa!” I shoot straight up in my bed. My 13 year old sister is standing by my bed. The clock says 3:09 AM. “You were screaming in your sleep, Clare. It was about the accident.” “Thanks for waking me up. Go back to sleep, Lilah, we have school in the morning.” She climbs back into the bunk above me. I look across the room at the crib, making sure I didn’t wake Quinn. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve woken her up this week with my screaming. The accident happened six months ago. Quinn was born three months ago. Dad never met her. She never met Dad. All because I had to go to the movies. Eric wanted to meet me there, I had to be there. Even though my car was out of gas. I needed Dad to drive me. It’s all my fault. It’s all my- “Clare?” “Yea Lilah?” “It wasn’t your fault.” Silence. I don’t respond, I can’t. If I agree, it’ll feel like lying. If I disagree, I she’ll argue with me. “Go to sleep, Delilah.”
The morning comes after a long, dreamless sleep. What’s the point of dreaming? They’re  all nightmares. At 6:30 I wake up and pull Quinn out of her crib to get a bottle. Lilah opens one eye. “Did you have to turn on the lamp?” “You needed to get up anyways.” “Ew.” “Lilah.” “I said ew.” “That’s nice dear, get up.” Groan. Such a drama queen. Quinn looks just like me, just like Dad. Mom can’t even look at her. Her own child. She won’t look at me, won’t look at Quinn, won’t look at Lilah. We all ‘look too much like him’. She can only look at Adam, my older brother. He looks just like Mom. She isn’t reminded of her dead husband every time she looks at him. She doesn’t see the person responsible, unlike every time she looks at me. My therapist says it’s PTSD. I say it’s guilt. Rightful, deserving guilt. It should’ve been me. He offered to let me just take his car but I wanted to be dropped off, so Eric could bring me home. Quinn’s whining snaps me out of my thoughts. I walk into the kitchen and see Adam sitting at the table. He took a leave from college in order to come back and take care of us. It wasn’t fair of me to do this to him, he’s going to be so behind on his degree. He wants me to go to the same college as him when I graduate so that he can keep an eye on me. They’re scared I’ll try something again. “How are you feeling, Rissa?” “Oh, fine.” I lie. “Clarissa.” “What Adam?”  “I asked how you were feeling.” “And I said I’m fine, Adam. I’m fine.” “You’re the worst liar there ever was, Rissa.” “I’m not lying. I feel fine.” Forced smile. He can see right through it. I can tell by the look on his face. He’s too perceptive for his own good. “Clarissa. If you want me to help you, you need to stop lying to me.” “Well maybe I don’t want your d--- help Adam!” I scream at him. Quinn starts screaming too. Loud, ear shattering, heart melting, anger destroying baby screams. “Rissa. Give Quinn to me.” “No.” “Clarissa.” “You’re not my dad Adam! You can’t make me do whatever you want just by saying ‘Clarissa’!” “You know what Clarissa? Maybe I’m not your Dad but I’m the closest thing any of us have anymore!” I didn’t have anything to say back. I knew it was true. I hand him Quinn and sit down. The baby screaming soon quiets down while I sit there, alone with my thoughts. Delilah comes out of our bedroom a few minutes later. She doesn’t ask questions. She doesn’t need to. Her stupid older sister was just messing everything up again. I ruin everything. This is my fault. I don’t deserve this family. I don’t deserve to be here anymore. I should end it all. I need it all to stop. I almost did it last time. I might be able to now. It wouldn’t be that har- “Clarissa. Stop.” Adam’s voice interrupts my thoughts. I pretend to act confused. “What are you talking about?” He gives me that look. The one that tells me he can see right through me. “I know what you were thinking.” “What do you mean? I wasn’t.” “Rissa, I’m a psychology major, I can see right through you.” “Oh gosh Adam. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that being a psychology major meant you could read minds.” “Shut up Rissa.” I’m angry now. “No. I want to hear this. Tell me. Tell me what I was thinking.” He shakes his head. “Not with Delilah in the room.” I roll my eyes and walk off to get ready for school.
Adam drives me and Delilah to school with Quinn in the back. I pick at the hole in my jeans at the knee the whole way to the middle school to drop off Delilah. “Hey Clare.” Adam says, almost a whisper. I pretend not to hear him, still fiddling with the hole in my jeans. “Clary.” He grabs the sleeve of my gray thermal. I look at him. “Just know that if you need something, I’m just down the hall.” “Yea thanks, Adam. I got i-” “No stop. Don’t brush me off. I know exactly what you were thinking of this morning. I don’t want it to come to that. I can’t lose you Clary. If I lost you, I.. I.. I don’t know what I would do. I mean, we’re 18 months apart. We were practically twins our whole lives. So, just don’t let me lose you.” I fall silent. I don’t know how to respond. “Ok.” Wow Clarissa. Good response. He was all deep and there you go, being your indifferent self. I look up and we’re in front of the school. “Have a great day Clarissa. Love you.” “Love you too Adam.” I grab my stuff and head out of the car into the front of the building.
Everyone stares at me as I walk through the halls. It’s only my second day back. It’s not very common around here that a teacher gets a report from a psychiatrist telling her that her student has been put on a suicide watch after a failed attempt. Everyone acts super careful around me. They act like at any second I’m going to pull out a knife and slit my wrists again. If only they knew it wasn’t that easy. Actually, I’m glad they don’t. Most of my old friends are avoiding me. They don’t want to be seen with that “crazy suicidal girl”. I’m not crazy. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I won’t go back to that dark place. I refuse. No matter how much the little voice in my head tells me to. No matter how bad the grief hits me. I don’t want to be the “crazy suicidal girl” again. It’s March of my senior year, I want to finish it out strong.
After school, I wave goodbye to the friends that still talk to me and watch them walk off to their cars. I miss those days. I miss not being terrified to get behind the wheel of a car. I stand at the curb and wait for Adam to drive over. The little silver car stops right in front of me. I know that car too well. It isn’t my brother. “Clary, babe.” Eric smirks as he rolls down the window. “Leave me alone Eric. I told you, I don’t want to be with you anymore. Get over it and leave me alone. My psychiatrist says it’s not good for me.” Eric laughs. “When did you start listening to what anyone had to say?” I glare at him. “When I met someone who actually wanted to help me. Unlike you.” His expression changes, he’s mad. I know I’ve said the wrong things now. He opens up his car door, walks over and stands, towering over me. “You listen here Clarissa. You are nothing but a freak. You always have been and you always will be. Don’t think that we’re done. We aren’t done until I say we’re done.” In fear, I stumble backwards. Has his voice always been this loud, this demanding, this aggressive? I begin to stutter over my words. I don’t even see him coming. Adam steps in between Eric and I. He looks at me. “Get in the car, Clare.” I run, as fast as I can to Adam’s car. I used to always hate the dark green color of it but now it looks more welcoming than anything else on this street. I’m not able to hear what Adam is saying but Eric backs off. Delilah is sitting in the backseat with Quinn. She leans forward and gives me a confused look. “I thought Adam and Eric were friends. They were always friends when they played football together.” I shrugged. “Things change Delilah.” Adam walked back over to the car, got in and slammed the door. “I don’t want you around him anymore, Clarissa.” “No problem.”
At home, Mom is hiding away in her room as normal. I haven’t seen her in about a week. She’s trying to avoid me I think, Adam says she’s just still grieving. I’m not sure whether to believe him on that. I lie down on my bed and start on my math homework. Delilah’s head pops down from the top bunk. “Sissy, will you braid my hair?” I wasn’t doing my homework anyway. I sit her on the bed in front of me and begin to braid her long dark curls. The same long dark curls that fall over my shoulders and caress my back. The same dark hair that’s beginning to curl on Quinn’s head. The same dark curls from dad. About halfway through braiding her hair, Quinn wakes up from her nap. Surprisingly enough, she doesn’t cry, she lays in the crib and watches Delilah and I giggle together the way only sisters can. Then it happens. That little baby giggle. Delilah and I both stop and look at Quinn and start laughing again. It’s identical to that pivotal moment in a story of a broken girl who realizes that she can go on, because this is that moment.