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Recoil “Jezebel”

 

 

 

 

I always knew there was something not quite right about my sister

 

call it intuition if you will

a nagging suspicion that death is due to pay her a visit

 

or perhaps it already has

 

why else would her skin feel so icy cold to the touch

 

what other reason could there be for her aversion to light

 

for her tendency to act out her perversions solely at night

 

always behind closed doors

far away

from the pry of spies

 

sometimes i can hear sobbing from her room

but never once have i seen Lucy cry

 

she has the very blackest of eyes

 

they scare me if I’m honest

 

sometimes we used to play a game

to see who could stare for the longest

 

she always won

 

and every second i spend under her gaze

i come further undone

 

daring not to venture inside

 

not ready for the kind of truths that they testify

 

you see i still have my innocence

far too young for imprisonment

 

try to shrug off their suggestion

flat refuse to play participant

 

sometimes

when i wake

the very first thing i can feel is

her stare

 

i open my sleepy eyes

and she’s already there

 

smiling her crooked smile

defiling first thoughts of the day

 

whispering her plans to
spirit me away

 

come inside dear

is the chant

but i can’t

i daren’t

 

fear i may never return

 

and this is no passing concern

no mere allusion

far more of a foregone conclusion

 

i have long since arrived at the deduction

that Lucy was raised from the

ashes of hell

set on a path of destruction

 

a paradox

a riddle

a black sheep in the herd of Christ

 

Gnashing teeth and waiting for the kill

no interest in playing nice

 

my dolls used to turn up missing

only to show up days later

beheaded

 

every nerve that this struck

was promptly torn asunder and shredded

 

of course
i could never actually prove it was Lucy
dared not even try

 

sometimes it’s just better to turn a blind eye

 

after all
there had to be some reason for her wickedness

 

so i put it down to growing pains
the pre-fated loss of innocence

 

but how do you stand to lose something
that was never actually there in the first place

 

how does one start to explain the black stains on her bed sheets each morning

 

or the yawning gashes littering her spine

 

mother says nothing of Lucy’s soiled linen

nothing

as she laces her corset

 

 

it’s as though she is blind

 

or already resigned to the games of her unconscious mind

 

apparently she almost died during childbirth

 

and i reckon a part of her did

so i stuck close to my father like glue

 

it seemed he was far more likely to tell me the truth

when i came of age

 

he passed three weeks back now
it was sudden
no warning

 

yet i can’t shake this feeling within

that i’m the only one mourning

 

at the wake

Lucy took a moment to pay her respects

 

i looked her dead in the eyes

and have never once seen such contention

 

i am way beyond incomprehension

 

now i’m prisoner

in a house of ghosts

 

the shadows cackle

dead silence crackles

every floorboard seems in on the joke

 

creaking and shrieking intent to squeeze

to choke

 

the tree that taps at my window is poison of oak

 

and the walls

they close in

every time Lucy enters my chamber

 

that crooked smile that she flashes a most hollow disclaimer

 

come inside dear

is the chant

no i can’t

i daren’t

 

fear i may never return

 

fear it’s already too late

fear i’m already inside

fear i always have been

fear i always will be

 

why else would my skin feel so icy cold to the touch