LMS VI: Let Me Live Tonight 1.13

Heyyo, thank you for reading! ^^ This is a gentle reminder that this chapter is part of a larger novel, and I would ask that you please don't review it until you have reviewed and/or read the previous parts! You can start here, at the prologue. Thank you! :]

introduction

wow this was a really emotional and impactful chapter! I hadn't read any of the previous chapters but I did go back and read through them. This novel so far is one of my favourites I've read on YWS. Clay's narration is so distinct and he's such an interesting character. I'm so intrigued as to what is going to happen next!

opening

This chapter begins with a statement that something monumental happened when Clay was twelve. The narrative is written in a confused and disorienting way, mirroring Clay's state of mind, which is evident from the fragmented sentences and the repetition of the phrase, "when I was twelve." Clay's head hurts, and voices are sounding like Ophelia from the 911 call. The story is dealing with accident Dessie had and how his parents have been hiding a secret. As the story progresses, it becomes clearer what happened and what they were hiding for all those years.

The way Clay pieces together what is being told to him throughout this chapter is done really nicely; fragmented, like I mentioned before. It's structured in a way that mirrors how I imagine this would go down in real life, and to use too much description or too much action would have ruined the scene, but you balanced it perfect and made it pleasing to read on the screen/page.


dialogue

The dialogue between Clay and his parents is used to reveal the truth about Dessie's death, which had previously been concealed from him. Despite the sensitive nature of the topic, I think the dialogue was really realistic and revealed a lot about Clay's parents, helping explain their behaviour in earlier chapters when Clay was older. The dialogue also reveals the guilt and remorse of Clay's parents for lying to him, which was shown to us readers rather than just told which is always a plus. The dialogue between Clay and his parents is effectively used to up build tension leading to the part where Clay realises the truth, and create an atmosphere of extreme sadness and guilt. The use of short sentences and fragmented speech by Clay's parents highlights their distress and difficulty in conveying the truth to Clay, and make the reader both sympathise with them, since they did what they thought was the best for their son, and hate them - for lying to Clay his whole life. The silence of Clay's dad at key moments of the conversation also adds to the dramatic tension.

characterisation

The description of Clay's internal state through the use of sensory imagery and fragmented thoughts highlights his extremely emotional state and the impact that the truth had on him. The repetition of the phrase "when I was twelve" highlights how much this revelation of truth impact him going forward in his life. I think Clay is a super unique character whose point of view I've really enjoyed reading. He feels like a real character, well rounded and thought out, very well written overall.

technical stuff / literary devices

The vivid imagery and poetic language you used throughout the chapter add an even deeper layer of emotional depth to the overall narrative. We already know Clay's feelings surrounding Dessie's accident, but I assume we will fill in the gaps more as the chapters progress. I gathered that Dessie actually passed away in the accident but Clay's parents decided to conceal the truth to help Clay feel better. The use of metaphors such as "knives stabbing through my skull" and "drowning in a bathtub soaked with death" help to convey the Clay's intense pain and grief throughout the chapter.

overall

This is one of the most original stories I've read on YWS for a while and it has all the charms and qualities of published work! I am honestly hooked.

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!! And here we arrive at the end. I believe this was meant to be the worst of the lot so I am terrified but also actually more disappointed about how we're going to have a bit of a cliffhanger possibly and there's no more to be read. AHh well its time finish this binge.

First Impression: This was quite the sledgehammer, I think it probably ended up missing a little on the swing for me personally because I saw it coming, but in the context of how information is supposed to come out here, this a very powerful little chapter that just links every bit of the things we had power and throws it all us in this one powerful moment where it all unites like the Avengers of making you cry.

Anyway let's get right to it,

I was twelve. I was twelve when the whole world stopped.

No, that’s not right.

When I was twelve— when I was twelve—

“Clayton, do you know what paralyzed is?”

My head hurts too much to think. It’s burning, knives stabbing through my skull.

And for those final two weeks, all the voices sounded like her.

“Isn’t there anything else you wanna be when you grow up?”

I don’t know what else she wanted to be. Maybe she would’ve changed her mind, maybe she would’ve chosen something different, maybe she would’ve—

When you fell, you broke my sanity.

Knives in my eyes. Migraines, pounding, killing, drowning in a bathtub soaked with death.

“Maybe I can do both."

I’ll never know. She’ll never know. We’ll never know if she could’ve done both because she can’t do both because she can’t do anything because she can’t—

I was paralyzed in lies.

My parents sat me down. “Clayton—” my dad began, then paused. His voice sounded choked up, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. My mom began to cry.

“We never meant for it to get this out of hand,” my mom blurted out, full-on sobbing.

“Caroline—” my dad started then stopped, like he couldn’t continue. He stared down at his lap. His hands were shaking.

I didn’t know what was happening. I could feel the dread piling in my stomach, the beginnings of a migraine beginning to form.

My mom cried into my dad, and he held onto her loosely, like he wasn’t quite sure. He opened his mouth, then closed it. His voice sounded weak.

“You pushed her,” my mom hiccuped. “You pushed her Clayton! You pushed her to—” She choked, pressing her face into my dad’s chest.

“It wasn’t your fault,” my dad said carefully. “We just didn’t think you could— we didn’t know how you’d— and you were both so young, and we didn’t want it to affect you, but clearly it has, and we should’ve just been straight-forward with you. We aren’t perfect parents, we’ve made mistakes—” he faltered again.

“What happened?” I whispered. I felt unsteady, even though I was already sitting. “What did you do?”

“No,” I whispered, rising to my feet. “No.”

“We didn’t know how to tell you,” my mom cried, “and we were afraid it would make you—”

“You said she was paralyzed,” I whispered, barely audible.

“We lied,” my dad said gruffly.

“You said she moved away.” Everything spun around me. Or maybe it was that, for the first time, everything was standing still. All the games of house, of school, of adventures. What she wanted to be when she’d grow up, when she’d never—

“All the letters,” I interrupted. “All the letters she wrote me. She couldn’t have—”

Neither of them could meet my eyes, and suddenly I understood. I understood why they’d stopped, why she hadn’t written anymore. I knew what happened.

“Girls aren’t chickens!”

“Then why don’t you do it?” Robin dared. “Unless you’re too chicken.”

“She didn’t want to play that game,” I whispered. I stared at them then screamed, “she didn’t want to play that game!”

“Don’t say that,” she cried out angrily. “She’s not dead, we don’t know that she’s dead! I don’t want her to be dead, I don’t want—” She stopped, beginning to cry.

“You lied to me,” I said, then yelled shrilly, “you lied to me!”

“You were eight,” my mom sobbed. “Clayton, you were eight.”

“She was eight!” I screamed. “She was eight! She was eight and now she’s— she’s—”

Her crying morphed into sobs as she hugged herself, body shaking like a leaf. The heat beat down on us as we sat in the tall green grass. “I— don’t want— to die.”

“No!” I yelled, pushing away from her, feeling myself rapidly devolving. “No, you told me— you told me—” I couldn’t breathe. “I didn’t mean to make her die,” I bawled, burying myself against my mom. “I didn’t want her to die.”

She’d never get to be a mother, a teacher, an adventurer. She’d never be anything. The knives drove into my skull, electrocuting my brain.

I can’t remember a time before this, before you.

I couldn’t. I can’t. But I can remember the time after.

I’ll always remember the time after.

When Desdemona played, it was like the whole world stopped.

When I was twelve— when I was twelve—