Ear pressed against wall
You attempt to extricate the whispers
“not the same” your mother’s voice is low, feeble, about to break
and then a whimper
“She needs help” older brother mutters
You hush your own breathing, lean your body in closer
You hear a crinkling sound, your stomach flops
upside down
“we found this” mother’s voice tense, restrained
You picture her handing it over, the Ziploc bag
“What is it?” father taken aback, sudden surprise
and you hear
“cocaine.”
You choke at the word
Your life, your biggest lie
unveiled by your own family’s eyes
so desperate you are to shout
I’m sorry, so, so
sorry
But nothing comes out.