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NEVER HAD AND NEVER WOULD

Lizzie

MAY 29, 2000

“C AOIMHE? ” I WHISPERED IN THE DARKNESS, KNOWING THAT EVEN THOUGH SHE WAS on the opposite side of the room, she could still hear me. “Are we going to die here?”

It took a long time for her to answer me, and when she finally did, her voice didn’t sound like how it used to. “No, Liz.” Her words were slurred and stretched. “I won’t let that happen to you.”

Sniffling, I hooked my arms around my knees and rocked back and forth. “What about you?”

Silence .

Panic rose up inside of me .

“I hate your bedroom,” I bit out, burying my face in my knees. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Me, too,” she replied, voice cracking. “I want Dad.”

“I don’t,” I sobbed, feeling my body tremble from the cold. “I just want Hugh…”

After her funeral, the Gardaí carried out a half-hearted investigation that was immediately closed when the coroner’s report came back ruling my sister’s cause of death as suicide.

Everyone took his side.

Because Mark’s story added up and mine didn’t.

Because he was sane, and I was labeled a sick child.

Because Gerard Gibson wouldn’t help me.

I couldn’t be sure of a lot in life—I always had trouble distinguishing dreams from reality—but I knew one thing for absolute certain.

It wouldn’t matter what I did or said about that night.

Nobody was going to take my side.

Nobody was going to believe me .

They never had and never would.

So why bother trying?

Why bother caring?

Why bother breathing?