Who do you trust when you can't tell what's real and what's not? Who is really here, who did my head make up? Is the man with the drugs and the questions real? Are the noises, the lights real or imagined, hallucinated? I know the sleep deprivation is real, that much I know, but is someone really waking me up, or am I doing it to myself? Are they reading what I write, if they are real? He's so gentle and sweet when he brin...

“Gilli, what did you do?” “I'm fine, really.” “No, sweetheart, you aren't. I can see it in your eyes. Let me see.” He gently takes her hand and cradles it in his. He hisses in empathetic pain. “Okay, not nothing, love." He gently wraps her burnt hand in a cool, wet tea towel and leads her to the kitchen table. “Sit, Gilli, I’ll be back in a minute with the first aid kit.” She sits, perfectly malleable, for the moment. Not...

Rusty, the screen door it slams. “Ya’ll be careful out there, please.” Momma yells. Rusty, the screen door it slams as Momma ushers us outside. “Little pitchers.” Momma says to Daddy. Rusty, the screen door it slams as Daddy sends us outside. “Daddy doesn't feel well.” Rusty, the screen door it slams as Sissy runs off. “I don’t care what you think, I love him.” She yells, loud enough for the world to hear. Rusty, the scre...