Kristen and I

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is the story of my marriage. It is the story of how I fell head over heels in love, only to have it ripped away from me from the person who was closest to me. It's not finished. I just wanted to get it out there.

Submitted: June 10, 2013

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Submitted: June 10, 2013



 It was 10:30 in the morning and I had a mission. Although I looked innocent enough curled under my blanket on the couch, eyes closed in peaceful slumber, I was really just biding my time, waiting for the perfect time to strike. The room was silent except for the sound of Kristen's breathing. I lay still, patiently waiting. Finally, I decided to risk detection and I cracked an eyelid. Little Kristen lay in a sprawling heap on the floor, limbs tangled in her pink blanket with a stuffed barney snuggled securely under her arm. Mom was no where to be found. The coast was clear.

Feeling like an international super spy on a mission of utmost importance, I gingerly crept around my sleeping sister, hardly daring to breathe for fear of waking her. I tiptoed over her sprawled legs and reached the far end of the living room with no trouble. I pumped my fist in and yelled a silent hurray!

I peeped down the long hallway that led off of the living room to the bedrooms. My nearly adolescent brother could be heard laboriously strumming away at his new guitar to the right and the constant chatter of my mother on the phone came from the left. Now was my chance! Darting into the kitchen with a sense of victory, I ran to the freezer, yanked back that heavy white door, and marveled in the sheer wonder of frozen treats. I proudly chose a red Popsicle from the freezer and popped it open.

Just then, as if summoned by her supernatural power of detecting any fun had without her, my worst enemy stormed into the kitchen, planted her little fists firmly on her hips and glared at me accusingly.

“What are you doing?” She demanded with a frown.

“Nothing.” I said, trying in vain to hide the Popsicle behind my back.

“You're lying!” Kristen stomped her little foot as hard as she could. “I'm telling mom! You're eating a snack without me!” With that, my six-year-old tormentor was gone from the room, flying down the hallway to summon every kid's worst nightmare... Mom.

“No!” I lurched after her. But I knew it was too late. Nothing is faster than Kristen when she wants something. By the time I reached the doorway to the kitchen, Kristen had already run the length of the hallway and was banging furiously on our mother's bedroom door.

“Mommy!” Kristen called out in her sweetest voice. My mother's voice could be heard behind the door, still chattering away on the phone. Kristen would not be ignored. “Mommy! Mom! Mom! Mommmyy!!!” Kristen yelled her head off, relentlessly punching and kicking the door.

Finally, my mother yanked the door open and sternly chirped, “What??” She had the phone held to her chest and her blue-green eyes had the glint of annoyance. Oh boy.

“Mommy, Jessie was eating a snack without me!” Kristen singsonged. As our mother's annoyed glance shifted from Kristen to myself, Kristen pulled a face at me and smugly crossed her arms over her chest. I looked from Kristen to my Popsicle, which was still clutched in my right hand, untasted.

“Jessica. Marie.” My mother intoned. “You KNOW better than that. No snacks unless it's during your sister's snack time.” She snatched the Popsicle away from me. Kristen was a diabetic and couldn't eat unless it was at specific times during the day. Nothing infuriated her more than my brother or I enjoying a snack without her. “Now go to your room.”

My shoulders slumped in defeat as my mother pointed sternly at the door at the end of the hallway. Every child's personal prison. On my way to my temporary cell, I made sure to give Kristen my nastiest glare but she just smirked and skipped back to the living room. Feeling like a volcano about to erupt, I shut the door to my room firmly.

“It's not fair.” I grumbled as I threw myself onto my bed, feeling utterly miserable.



Life continued in this manner for the next ten years. I felt second to Kristen in the eyes of my family. I remember going to Walmart with our grandma. She always bought us a toy or candy. But Kristen always got the best toys and the most attention. As you can imagine, I developed a complex with my sister. I hated her. I wanted to be her. And she knew it.

Summer, 2010


“$5.86 is your change.” I intoned as I handed over a five dollar bill and 86 cents to the customer standing on the other side of the counter. “Enjoy the show!”


It had been a good day for me. I was 16, I was making payments to my parents for a 2000 LS2 Saturn, and I was working at my very first job at the movie theater. It was a Sunday afternoon so business was dragging.

I remember the first time I saw him. He was standing in line for concessions, looking cool and composed. He was easily the biggest guy I had ever seen in person. And not big as in fat. When I looked at him, I saw a man. His eyes were a piercing blue framed by a thick layer of dark lashes. He was rocking a goatee. I stole glances at him as I was helping the customer in front of him, and I was attracted.

Keanan stepped up to the counter. “Oooh.” I thought, “Lip ring...” I bit my lip nervously and asked “What can I get for ya?” I flashed him my most charming smile and felt a surge of butterflies when I noticed that he had noticed.

He ordered his food, flirted, and was late to his movie because we were talking. I was crushing hard.


I didn't hear from Keanan again for a few weeks. I got his number through a fellow employee who happened to know him. We texted now and then. We even ran into each other once or twice. But it never got farther. I had a boyfriend at the time anyway.

Keanan was gone from my mind for a few months. Then, in March of 2011, we started texting again. He asked me to hang out one day, and the rest is history. We were head over heels in love. We talked almost 24/7. We hung out every day. We had loads of sex. I wanted to marry him.


Over a year and a half later, I'm still in love with him. But we are not where we used to be. Do you remember Kristen? She took him from me. Just like she took everything during our childhood.


I found out they had an affair. He would go and screw her while I was at home waiting for him. I had his baby. I gave him my entire heart. And he chose her. I don't know how to deal with what happened. I've lost my sister and my mother. I've lost my best friend and lover. I've lost my peace of mind. I don't trust my husband. My heart is in pieces. My own flesh and blood slept with my husband. And the whole time, I was going to her with my marital problems. She lied to my face. So did he.

I watched this happen. I watched them get to know each other. I saw the attraction between them. I cried out for help and no one listened. I was alone. I was a single, married mom for nine months. I sank into a depression and I lost myself in the pain. I would look through Keanan's text messages, hoping to find some proof of his lies.. and at the same time, hoping to prove that he was innocent.

I read those messages between keanan and Kristen.

Keanan: “How was your night last night, sweetheart?”

Kristen: “It was good! My lower belly and my legs are super sore. But it was worth it ;)”

Keanan: “Lol my bad.”


As I read this conversation had between the two people closest to me, my vision became shaky. I felt an emotion I've never felt boil up inside of me. Grabbing his cell phone, I stormed down the hallway and burst open the bathroom door. Keanan was just stepping out of the shower, his hair was glistening with moisture.

“What the fuck is this?” I almost screamed as I threw his phone in his face.

I stood there in the bathroom, arms by my sides, fists clenched so hard it almost hurt, and I waited for his answer. He lied to me of course. He said they had just been working out.

“Bullshit.” I intoned. “Try again.”

My life was over. Kristen had won again.


I haven't talked to Kristen in months. Every time I see or hear from one of my family they mention how much she misses me. I miss her too. But I hate her. My every waking thought is plagued by the ghost of my sister. Every time I look into my husband's eyes I see her there. I think of her when I'm making funny faces at my manager at work. She's lurking in the corner when I'm making love with my husband.

She was my best friend. She was my sister. My confidante. My co-conspirator.

I feel as if I'm just watching my life go by. I feel like a zombie, trapped inside my own head while my body goes about as if nothing happened. I don't know how to deal with what happened.

I can't even write about it. This entry has been going on for months now.. but there is so much inside my head that I can't seem to get out. It's like I”m scared to. I'm scared of the emotions that are buried in the deepest part of my mind. I'm scared I won't be able to cope. I bury them deeper and deeper every day. And I can feel myself descending deeper and deeper into depression. Madness is just a step behind.



After I found out about Kristen, I was still determined to make things work with Keanan. I left him for a week. But he was always around anyway. He convinced me that he would spend the rest of his life making up for what he did to me. He tried.

Keanan and I got a new apartment together. We thought that's all we needed. A fresh start. But new information about what happened between him and my sister kept surfacing. And each time he would lie to me.

A few days ago, I snapped. I thought Keanan had been talking to her again. I was wrong and he proved it. But I didn't stop. The anger inside of me built to a whole new level. We screamed at each other. He left to cool off and I started packing my things. I was done.

When he got back, he saw the suitcases in the hallway. In a rage, Keanan dumped my clothes all over the floor. He took away my hair things, saying that I couldn't take them since he bought them. I rushed after him, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“No one is ever going to want you,” he said. “Go to the beach, stretch marks are in this season.”

The whole thing spiraled out of control when it got physical.

“Who is ever going to want you? You're dad doesn't want you. You're mom doesn't want you. I sure as hell don't want you. Where will you even go? You're nothing without me.


I am trapped. Trapped inside my own mind. Trapped in this god forsaken town. I don't have a car, a job, a husband, or a family anymore. I keep pushing people away. I'm terrified of getting hurt again. I literally won't be able to handle any more. Fuck love. Fuck people. Fuck life. I don't want to be here anymore. I just want it to stop. I contemplate suicide on a daily basis. I don't care anymore. I'm so full of pain and anger. I just want it to stop. Won't somebody save me?

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