By Ella Sohn

Trigger Warnings: Implied verbal abuse, car accident, drowning, trauma

A rag doll in the backseat—
my head lolls to the
side; my arms are
limp
and unmoving
as my mother yells her curses
to me and my shed shell of skin
left there,
remaining, after I’ve
crawled out.
My ears fill with instrumentals
so loud that they can deafen me;

they can deafen me;
they can defend me.

My hands have not enough strength
to grip the beige leather seat as she crashes the car— the white Lexus is
falling,
falling
and plunging itself into the lake
below

the wide-stretched bridge; a silent witness to this loud, siren song—its sleek exterior marred by scars of impact. My breath is

halting,
caught in the vice-like
grip of fear, and the world spins out of control,
and her mother
calls to her; yet her mother’s cries fall upon
unhearing ears—
and not those of me—those of her. She’s still shrieking at me, her muffled curses not reaching my chamber plugged ears.

And she ignores her mother, calling to her
with a water snake’s tongue, as the abyss yawns before her feet,

waiting

to swallow her whole.

–

Ella Sohn is a student based in Maryland, United States. Other than her passions for writing, poetry, and literature, Ella holds a deep love for all things music, politics, and fashion. She hopes to be able to intersect and pursue all of these passions in the future!