One month writing challenge!

Alcohol (Day 11)

This is also a challenge thing.

Downstairs she was yelling at no one. A beer bottle was probably in her hand either broken or empty. Did she think her daughter was still downstairs, hiding somewhere, quivering on the floor, attempting to hide her sobs. Or maybe she didn't care to look for the girl and instead only wanted the girl to hear her. The girl did. She heard everything, the insults, the swears and everyone of her mother's regrets. She heard it all.

Upstairs she was trying to block out the noise, locking the doors, barricading the small cracks, trying to think of anything but her mother's words. Soon her mother would pass out, or become tired sooner or later. Like everyday the girl would have to wait it out. So she sat on her bed, pushing her pillows on her ears. She could barely hear anything now, yet tears began to fall from her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time her mother acted like a mother. She could barely remember her dad who apparently left her years ago. She couldn't think of a single day she couldn't smell alcohol on her mother's breath. When she became sober she'd act like nothing happened. Her mother probably forgot about the horrendous things she had told her daughter. But even then she would neglect her. Never once did her mother apologize for all she has done.

The girl put on a smile, despite the tears staining her face. She had once heard tricking your mind into being happy would make her actually happy, but instead she felt worse. When was the last time she's genuinely smiled at home? Months? Years? She couldn't remember, not a single time. School was better but it always made the girl feel worse. She had many friends, teachers she liked, classes she enjoyed, a crush who may like her back but every time the last bell rang dread would fill her. She would have to go back home. Her mom would never sign any forms, always putting it off for later so the girl could never stay after school. Instead the girl would walk home and hope her mother wasn't already drinking.

None of her friends knew of her mother's problems. They may smell hints of alcohol on her, they may wonder why she always walks to school despite her mom always being available but the girl would never give a straight answer if one at all. Even with how she's treated at home she couldn't bring herself to speak up or speak out, not even once. Her mother would learn of the things she's doing and how it's affecting her daughter. That's what humans do. They learn from their mistakes. Her daughter knows life isn't a fairytale with a happily ever after and a prince charming but there must be some truth to it. Fiction is based on reality.

The yelling had stopped and the girl crept downstairs where she saw her mother on the floor. She just let out a sigh and wiped the remaining tears. She dragged her mother on the couch and put a blanket over her. Then the girl cleaned up the house. Her mother was never going to, she might as well.

(535 words)