my charade

Written by Madeline Curtis, 14, Margot's sister

When Margot goes into a seizure, all I can hear is her gasping. I look up, and her arms are held tremulously in front of her, palms flipped upward. Her eyes are faraway, fixed on something that only she can see, and she looks blank, so different than how she usually is. I look away, because it scares me too much to see her like that, to be faced with the terrifying reality of her condition. It’s easier to convince myself that everything will be fine.
I can remember horrible days filled with seizures, how each gasp poured another drop of ice down into me, until I felt like I was full to the brim with frigid water, slowly going about my daily routine. My charade kept me calm on the outside, which is how I like it to be. I pretend ignorance, because maybe, if I try hard enough, my naivete will become the cure, and her pain will end, bringing with it a new beginning.

Madeline and Margot

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