This teaser is from BURNOUT.
We scatter her ashes around the house. Under the great Oak tree in the backyard. In mom's garden, in the grass. Everywhere her feet, her hands touched.
"She'll live on here," Dad says.
It was hard to believe that someone like my sister could die. Cease to exist. She was like the fucking sun. All bright and beautiful and always so damn optimistic that it got on my nerves.
She wasn't like other girls. That was for sure.
Perfume annoyed the hell out of her and she would always get on me about how my cologne was contributing to global warming. Whatever that meant.
When she would walk past my room, instead of saying hi or what's up, she'd turn my light out and walk away.
At dinner, she would pick at her food, instead of eating it, knowing that it worried our mother to death.
"People in third world countries can't eat. So why should I?" she'd ask.
Yeah, Hailey was weird like that. Always putting everyone before her.
But this time was different. She was selfish, and took a razor to her wrist.
I was the one who found her. The bathroom door was creaked open, the water was still running. I didn't mean to go in, but Hailey never left the water running. She said wasting water should be a sin.
After about ten minutes she'd turn it off. But a whole hour had passed, and it was still running.
My mom, my dad, everyone else - can't get over the fact that I was the one who found her.
Red slits across her cold, pale skin, head lulled back, mouth slack. Chest still.
Hailey killed herself.
It came to a shock to everyone, and for days I couldn't sleep. When I was eating breakfast or shooting hoops outside, I would feel my heart getting heavy in my chest, and I'd cry. The tears would start slipping out of my eyes and they wouldn't stop.
Everyone tried to console me. Ex-girlfriends sent cards and flowers and called constantly, even though I never answered the phone.
The guys on the basketball team acted normal when they were around me. We used to joke around saying that crying was for bitches, losers.
And here I was, red lining my irises, tears staining my cheeks. Soon the kind words, the pats on the shoulder, the subtle glances, were too much to bare.
I didn't want anyone to feel sorry for me. There was nothing to be sorry for. My sister did this to herself. She was the one who filled the bathtub up, and cut open her veins, wide enough so that the blood would spill out.
That's all I can remember of my sister now. Everything else didn't matter anymore once I looked into her cold, glassy eyes.
She was dead.
I didn't cry at her funeral. Or memorial. You needed a casket for it to be a funeral. And there wasn't a casket. We were all just crowded into a hot, stuffy room, staring up front at the giant picture of Hailey.
I took it last summer on her birthday. She didn't want a cake or a party, so we all just sat around the dinner table as usual, and talked.
We always talked. My family was perfect. Not Brady Bunch perfect, but we were perfect in our own way.
Game nights, picnics, walks in the park, we did it all. I never liked spending time with my parent's because when they weren't arguing over some stupid thing, they were singing songs from 'back in their day'.
But Hailey loved that type of stuff. I used to tolerate our family time just for her, because I was the oldest. If she could do it, I could do it.
My family was perfect. We always talked. We never kept secrets.
We never kept secrets.