Monday, September 24, 2012

Gina's monologue(F)

I've been neglecting a story that I'm hoping to have finished and published by the end of the year.  It's very difficult to write so I have to admit I often neglect it intentionally but it needs to be told.  I wrote a monologue for a character in the story as a writing exercise to give me some direction.  Its funny, my theater teacher said that there are some people that are viewed as good actors because they're so good at story-telling.  I like to think that I fall into that category; I'm a story teller but I often think like an actor when approaching my writing.

Hi I’m Gina.  And my sister…well my twin sister committed suicide 3 days before our 15th birthday.  I learned a new term today in therapy.  It’s something called “non-touching sexual abuse.”  What the fuck does that mean?  I couldn’t tell you, but apparently it describes me and my fuckedupness I have going on in my head.  So basically, I’m here, before the anniversary of when my sister swallowed a bottle of pills and slit her wrists, telling you I’m fucked up cuz of what “might of, could of possibly but never did happen to me,” but did to her. 
My sister was raped for Christ’s sake.  Honest to God raped.  That’s such an ugly fucking word.  But it’s true, it’s what fucking happened.  Jesus.  I was so mean to her.  They say, it wasn’t “technically” rape because of no penetration or some shit, but that’s exactly what it was.  Our aunt…fuck, seriously.  (Beat)  My uncle’s wife, now ex-wife molested my sister, raped my sister. 
(Beat) I can still feel her with me.  Charley’s been dead for 5 years now and I can still feel her; as real as this scar on my hand.  (Smiles)  We are…we were identical twins.   When we were little Charley broke a glass pitcher of milk and it shattered in her hands.  She was always such a klutz.  She was on the kitchen floor crying; she had a cut on her left palm and right index finger.  I sat with her, covered my pj’s in milk, and tried to make her feel better.  I took a piece of glass and cut myself in the same two spots and told her, “See we’ll always be the same.” 
I can’t help but feel her when I look at these scars. (Beat)  I was so close to her and somehow I lost her, I failed her.