Fault

This is what this family does. We tear each other down with words, and then we ignore with silence that speaks volumes. And then we make it okay with money. We buy expensive gifts, we treat with take out. And all the way, we're digging each other a deeper hole that no one can refuse.

They say that you make your bed and you have to lie in it. But what if, while you're making your bed, someone hands you a blanket laced with spikes? One that you can't refuse, because if you do, they'll terrorize you as you lie in the bed you make?

Is it still your fault? Because you chose the poison that would kill you slowly, rather than the one that would off you right there?

Maybe.

I don't want to be like them. I don't want to turn out this sick way.

They say communication is a two way street. Same with so many other things. But what if one of them barricades both sides? What if they walk down one side, and as you try to say hi, they look past you like you're not even there?

What happens then? And who's fault is it?

What if one person is armed with guns and bombs, can you blame the other for not daring to speak? For not daring to attempt tearing down the barricades? For closing the doors on the street and holing up in the semi-safety of her own domain?