Survivors Guilt - A Monologue

Pretty depressing for a first piece... didn't really know what to put this under... A bit of swearing in there too... not very usual for me... Hope you like.

(A single light turns on upon a single girl standing in the middle of the stage. She is normal looking, with slightly colourless clothes and she holds a book in her hand. She is absent minded not paying attention to anyone, she does not look sad, but, then again, she isn’t happy. When she speaks, it is almost to herself.)

 

Have you ever heard the saying, “Boyfriends stab you in the heart, friends stab you in the back, but best friends don’t carry knives”? It’s not true. Not for me anyway. Not for what I did. I suppose a more fitting thing to say is “sisters don’t carry knives”, although... she was both.

 

My name is Alaycia, it means “of noble kind”. As if. Being noble means you have pide... honour. All that I had before, if any, disappeared when she did.

 

Zackaria.

 

I remember, when we were little, we would run into the forest and the green canopy above would shelter us from all the s**t raining down on to our lives. We would make up stories for each other where we could fly though the trees, leap from one to the other and... it stopped the pain. She stopped the pain. Her warm arms could wrap around and block the shouts and screams, the sound of flesh on flesh and the hatred. My house was only a home when she was there.

 

There was a two year difference between us and there was a crazy amount of distance between our looks. She was a little pixie of a girl, from the age of six I was taller than her, ebony hair dived down hair back and her pointed features gave her a definite elfin aura. On her prom night, bloody hell, she was beautiful, the care home provided money for the dress and her dick faced boyfriend was drooling over her. She could have done much better, yet, after years of drunken selfish b******s putting her down, she couldn’t even think about having someone better.

 

But, that was Zacka all over; shy, timid and completely unaware of how amazing she really was. At the time I thought that was the reason why she’d had sleeves fitted on to the dress, why she walked so round shouldered, why she’d hide herself in her room for hours.

 

I know now. I know the real reason and...

 

(Suddenly angry.)

 

IT WAS MY FALT!!

 

All those secret f**s behind the school wall. All those endless hours of the night muffling the giggles with pillows. All those days. HER LIFE!

 

Lost.

 

It wasn’t dick face her boyfriend stabbing her in the heart.

 

It wasn’t Tacky Taylor stabbing her in the back.

 

It was me!

 

So maybe she was the one holding the knife, instead of me, but that’s not what did it. It was the sharp blade of ignorance of my alcoholic parents... of the social workers... of me! Her sister.

 

HER BEST FRIEND!

 

(A few seconds of silence while Alaycia calms down.)

 

It was me who killed her. I knew that from the moment I walked into that bathroom and saw her lying on the floor, her relentless spirit gone. Just a casing. Just a shell of the wonderful person I should have been protecting.

 

It’s that sight that haunts my dreams, or rather nightmares, every time my eyelids wilt. In a way, I relish it. It keeps me sure of what I did, of my sin, and my guilt stays fresh. It keeps me remembering her.

 

Here’s another saying for you, “Too little, too late.”

 

It’s the story of my life.

 

And the ending of hers.

Author's Note

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Reviews

[Stars and Whales]

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http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/samfths/1865804/