Monologue

From Heaven

[A young girl in her teens is lead on her bed. She has her hair tied up in a messy bun and has mascara smudged down her face. She's staring deep into the ceiling, sniffling as if she is about to cry. She sits up and puts her head in her hands and starts to cry loudly for a few minutes. She pulls back and stares into the camera, looking distraught.]

It doesn't feel that long ago. 3 years is too long. I remember her so clearly, as if we were only together yesterday. [Pause] It didn't shock me... My sister’s death that is... it was inevitable, the day I refused a liver transplant to keep her alive for another month. I didn't refuse because I wanted her to die, I refused because it wasn't fair to continue living my life as nothing more than a science experiment. I was born for one purpose. That's all I was- A science experiment.

I guess it is really that long ago, 3 whole years since my sister took her last breath. 3 years since her eyes opened for the last time. My sister, my best friend, the only person I could turn to when everyone else turned away. I loved her so much, I swear I did.

[Looks to window and takes a loud deep breath. Looks at the camera and does a quiet laugh to herself, with a smirk on her face.]

I bet you feel sorry for me. I bet I have every ounce of your sympathy; you pity me, don't you? I've lost my sister so I must be completely devastated. But tell me, why would I feel any sort of grieving when I see her every day? Every morning, evening and night. [Pause] Her presence haunts me; her breath burns the back of my neck and her eyes dagger into me with every move I take. I'm constantly drowning in guilt because I didn't know what felt worse: continuing to be ripped open and having inside of me removed more and more every day, or living freely but without my sister. The doctors knew she'd loose the battle to stay alive soon enough, my job was to give my parents false hope that she could survive.

[A tear falls down the girls face. The girl lifts her hands to wipe it away as if shes refusing her need to cry.]

People think it was my fault she died, it was everywhere in the papers. "Young girl refuses operation to keep her ill sister alive." What a load of shit! Operation?! They make it sound like I only had to go through a week of pain when in reality it was years. Those writers had no idea! I had 77 operations since I was 3 months old! Most parents bring their children into the world saying they hope they'll be a doctor or a teacher or lawyer. My parents wanted me to be my Chloe's spare body parts. As long as my heart was healthy and my blood type matched hers, my parents couldn't care less what I turned out to be.

After 13 years being an object rather than a human being became too much. All of the operations, all of the hospital appointments, the words that were constantly repeated. "Do you love your sister, Katie?”, "why won't you help your sister? She needs you." The only time I could make my mother proud was when I returned conscious after a successful transplant which would determine whether my sister would last another month. Getting an A* in my maths test or completing a marathon which I trained so hard for after an operation were never enough. Surely every little girl deserves this during their childhood? Don't they? All I wanted is for my mother to love me for who I was, not what science is inside of my body. She loved my sister unconditionally, but loved me on a condition- I'd risk my life every day to save hers.

[The girl leans forward, crying. She stands up and slowly walks over to a chair next to a desk. She sits down and fiddles with a pen until she drops it. The girl turns to look at the camera but her eyes are staring at the floor.]

I'm not alive to give up everything inside of me. I wasn't born into a loveless and cold-hearted world where the only thing I'm useful for is internal.

I lived in a horror movie, but one that didn't have an end. One that I will be living in for the rest of my life. I didn't do any wrong... I never did. I let them use me as their science experiment, didn't I? A cruel experiment, I'd be unsure if I could make it another day myself. I was weak. I had no energy to do what I wanted to do. I wasn't aloud any emotions, sympathy or love from anyone. I was made to feel useless if I didn't help her, as if that was my only purpose in life.

I remember when I was 5; Chloe and I would dress up as princesses and run around the house singing at the top of our lungs. Wires were attached to her wrist but it didn't stop us from being happy and enjoying every bit of each other’s company. You might think I'm crazy because I swear I can still hear her singing in my dreams. I also hear the screaming,,, Loud screaming that I couldn't escape from. Almost as if the noise was locked in my head replaying over and over. The screaming came from Chloe when her body rejected the medication. [Girl wipes tear from her eye] I was too young to know. I wish I still was. I can remember what my life consisted of 3 years ago more than I can right now. All the arguments between my parents about what they were going to do after every threatening meeting at the hospital where they'd be told Chloe had few days to live unless she got a transplant.

Chloe was like the glue for us. She was the only reason we'd eat at the table as a family, the only reason we'd go on holiday or trips to beach or zoo. She held us together so that the rest of us didn't completely smash into pieces... Pieces that could never be glued back together without her presence.

I still replay the memory of all the panics we went through like a movie in my head, except I can't seem to find the pause or stop button anywhere. All the paramedics rushing in, sirens screeching into my ears making me feel like they were bleeding. They pushed past me shouting at one another "quicker! We need to get her in." [Pause] In where exactly? I was completely oblivious to what was happening. My sister, the other half of me, was being dragged around like a rag doll. She was crying in desperation to be able to breathe normally again. I could almost hear her body telling her each time that it had had enough.

The thoughts torture me and I think that's why it's on repeat: I deserve this torture don't I? [Raises voice] Well at least that's what my mum says! Whatever I did for her was never enough! I couldn't do it anymore, why couldn't anyone understand or imagine any of the pain I was in? A young girl shouldn't have to go through such mental and psychological pain, should they?!







[The girl cries violently, then lifts her head and wipes her tears with her sleeve.]

Now I'm living in a foster home. I live with an old couple who can't have children. I think that's the reason they decided to take me on. My parents didn't force me into care; I signed myself up for it. You would’ve done the same; anyone would’ve if they went through what I did. It felt like the right thing to do and I'm sure Chloe would've agreed. It was the only hope to make something out of myself and bring the half of me that died with Chloe back to life. [Deep breath] They're really nice about the whole thing, and by “their” I mean my new parents. I guess that’s the reason I'm more comfortable there. We eat at the table together and go out on trips like I did with my family. Only with them it's a lot more quiet and serious. There's never really any laughing or joking, but there is a sense of belonging which I never felt before. I like to think one day I'll have my own family, and love my children equally and the most I possibly can… unconditionally, too. They’ll never have to go through what I did.

[Takes a deep breath, her voice begins to shake as if she is about to cry but she holds it in]

You know, Chloe used to say how we were going to live together when we grew up, she always looked after me in ways no one could. We were each other’s best friend. We had the same taste in music and the same fashion style, the only thing that could separate us was the hospital rooms. She loved me for who I was, unlike my parents. Although we never spoke of the operations or transplants I knew she appreciated it. I always wanted to talk about it with her to ask how she felt about it all. She never really had an option; no one asked Chloe what she wanted to do. Mum didn't allow it; apparently it wasn't for her little girl to worry about.

[Girl stands up and tears slowly fall down her face. She turns to a table and picks up a frame and smiles. She turns the frame so the audience can see it, it's a photo of herself and Chloe]

Chloe's just a memory to me now... To all of us. Just a photo in a frame of a time were never going to live again. [pause] It's so depressing. In my opinion the only way you can truly move on from something like this is to forget. How do I forget? How do I forget any of this? Because I can sure tell you therapy won't help. I don't think anything will. Chloe's a lot like my shadow now: Follows me everywhere I go without being able to talk or touch her again. Ever. Torture. Complete torture.