A BAND-AID FOR GSW by M.D. Olaoye

one more thing. I made my way to my sister’s desk and pulled out all the drawers until I saw the silver gleam of the item I was looking for. Yes. It’s still here. I pulled out the pen. I was afraid something so small might have gotten lost but here it was in my hand. I couldn’t help but visualize the moment I borrowed the pen from him, and how that sparked something between us. With one final look, I put the pen in my pocket and hurried out the room. There was no time to get all of my other stuff, but it was okay because I got what I needed. The fire was climbing up the stairs two at a time and eating everything in its path, leaving the window as my only option for escape. Luckily these two stories weren’t that high, and I flung myself out the window as one final explosion engulfed the rest of the house in flames.

A Band-Aid for GSW by M.D. Olayoe

“LOOK ME IN THE EYES, Jason! Look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn’t push that girl off the roof!” she screams, tears running down her face. But I can’t even lift my head up. her. I search her face for any signs of weakness, but I’m met with sore red eyes, a runny nose, and pain. I don’t want her to feel this way because of me, broken and terrified, over something that she didn’t even do.

“No, April. I didn’t push the girl off the roof,” I sigh, my back turned towards her. I start to walk out the room, hoping she will leave it at that, but knowing my defiant little sister, she will probably continue this conversation until early morning. She places her hand on my shoulder and spins me around to face “Jason, don’t you stand here and lie to my face! Just tell me the truth please and we can just talk about this.” She would say anything to get me to open up to her. She always puts my feelings before hers and enforces the fact that between us, communication is key. But I can’t, not with this. I remain silent and stare into

her eyes. She stands tall but I know on the inside she is in the darkest corner of her room, crying, curled up in a ball as vulnerable as ever. Again, I turn to walk out the room. I can’t bear to burden her with my troubles, so not telling her anything, not getting her involved, is the best thing for her right now. She is silent and this time she lets me walk away. I am almost out the door when she says those words that change everything: “I called the cops.”

My brain sputters for a second, and my thoughts take a moment to catch up. No she couldn’t have. She would never. I feel my whole body freeze up and I can’t move. My feet are glued in place and I can’t tell in this moment if my heart is beating or not. “Please, say something, Jay Jay.” She uses the childhood nickname she came up with many years ago, as if that will fix the issue, but it is like putting a Band-Aid over a gunshot wound.

I’m not gonna yell at her. She’s already hurting too much and yelling at her will only make the guilt she’s feeling leave a deeper scar. So instead, I turn around and say what she already knows: “I love you.” And I finally walk out the door.

I didn’t know which is louder: April’s pleas to get me back inside the house, or the police sirens that only get louder as they near my house.

Nancy Perkins ‘21