The Diary of the "Crazy" Girl

Prologue

It all started from day one. Being birthed into a broken family wasn't something I had ever asked for. With my father never being around and my mother being an angry alcoholic and drug abuser, I was just another pawn in their game, having no choice but to play Survival Battleship. Avoid the opposing forces, dodge the raging missiles, and if you get caught, lie about it.

My earliest memory was when I was around four years old. My mother was heavily intoxicated at eight in the morning. She was making a ruckus in the kitchen, complaining that some bastard had taken her pills.

I had just woken up from my bed and was walking to the bathroom, going past the kitchen when she grabbed my arm, mildly hurting me. She glared at me with blood shot eyes, smiling crudely as that one missing tooth allowed the stench of alcohol to flow into my face. I avoided her eye contact, but my eyes glanced at the bottle of liquor placed on the kitchen counter.

"Piss in the bowl."

She had ordered, pointing to the glass bowl which was across the small apartment bathroom, laid against the tub. I had opened my mouth to ask why I needed to do this, to pee in the bowl, but she squeezed my arm roughly, silencing me. When she released my arm, which was already bruised, I walked to the bathroom, closed the door, and did as I was told. I washed my hands, and even though I cleansed them, I still felt dirty. Like I was doing something wrong.

I walked out and looked for my mother, but she wasn't in the kitchen. I scanned the rooms, starting from the living room and making my way back, finally looking into her bedroom. I opened the door and was met with a heavy sniffle. My mother jerked around and yelled at loudly as she could,

"SHUT THE DAMN DOOR!!"

Immediately, I slammed the door shut, running to my room and hiding in bed, pulling the sheets up over my head. I cried silently as I heard things crashing and glass shattering from right next door to my bedroom. An image was captured in my mind; my mother had some sort of white powder around her nose. What was it? I had wondered if it was sugar, but why would sugar go up her nose? I eventually fell back asleep to the sounds of grumbling and cursing.

A few months later, I had turned five. I remember not having a birthday party, having no presents, not even having a single cupcake to celebrate. I recall spending the day in my room, playing with my old Pet Shop Pet toys. I had cried that night; I felt forgotten. As if nobody remembered me, except my mother. She was there on my birthday, getting drunk and throwing up everywhere, per usual.

Anyway, on this particular day was when my memories started going blank, like prank gunshots. I remember my mother walking into the apartment with a strange black man. They were kissing aggressively, making out deeply. She must have forgotten she had a child in the apartment, because when the man pointed to me, my mother's eyes had widened and she had stormed to me, picked me up, and quite literally threw me aside. My head cracked off the wall and I landed with a heavy thud. I cried softly to myself as the two made their way to mother's bedroom.

Hours went by and I watched television on full volume to block out the loud echoes of moaning and skin on skin contact. When the man walked out, he was wearing nothing. His body was revealed to me, but I tried to look away.

"Come with me, Skylar."

He had commanded, holding out his hand to me. How did this man know my name? He must be friendly. As a naïve child, I trusted the stranger. I turned the TV off, got up off the floor, and followed the man into the bathroom. The last thing I remember was feeling a burning pain coming from my lower half and seeing bruises on my wrists.

My memories started going blank from them on out. From what I remember, this sort of interaction between me and men happened quite frequently and my mother never stopped it. This was the start of it all.