The Cartel's Next Lie

Letter #2

Delia—

I did something tonight that probably makes me a terrible sister. Or maybe it just makes me alive, I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.

I wanted to stop thinking about you. That sounds awful. It is awful. But your face kept showing up behind my eyes, and every time it did, I felt seven years old again.

And I’m so fucking mad. Jesus, I think the mad is going to swallow me whole some nights.

So I chose something else. A body. A mouth. Heat. Noise.

For a little while, I remembered I had skin instead of just scars.

I don’t know if that makes me selfish. I think maybe surviving is selfish sometimes.