Short Stories :P

{59} Worst Night of My Life | Nov 22, 2022

TW: Alcohol

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Bam! The door slammed open and it was my mom. My eyes were wide as I felt my heartbeat increase. Thump. Thump. Thump. "Heeeeey." She slurred, her eyes droopy as a drunken smile spread on her face. I immediately stopped what I was doing and went up to her. "I missed yooouuu." She then said, hugging me tight.

My heart thumped even faster, as if it was gonna beat out of my chest. I could feel my shoulders tense up as I slowly led her to her room. Mom laid down on her bed, wine stains on her white button down shirt and her ripped jeans. "Uh-- uhm-- I'm getting you water." I stammered, rushing to the kitchen and quickly going back.

But after arriving, her smile was no longer there as fat droplets of tears rolled down her face. "Uh-- uh-- could you... sit up-- please?" I stuttered, but she didn't listen as she kept crying. I stood there, clueless as to what I had to do. "M-- mom," I said again, handing her the water. Her shaky hand took it from me, but after just one sip she angrily threw the cup at the wall as it shattered to pieces.

My eyes were wide, my breath shuddered. I didn't know what to do, I was thirteen. My sister slowly creeped out of her bedroom. "What's happening?" She asked. "Nothing, nothing, just go to your room." I said. Then, loud wails emerged from my mom's bedroom; sobs that won't stop, trailing after it.

My sister marched into the bedroom, taking in the sight of our mother bawling her eyes out-- but she seemed to think it was a joke as she started laughing.

I sighed- but in that small puff of air that I blew out, I could feel every emotion I try to push away blow out with it. Dad's not home-- he never really is, is he? Mom's drunker than she ever was before. Older sister is clueless to everything that is happening. And that just leaves me-- the only put-together one of this broken family.

"Go-- go to your room, I'll take care of this." I said sternly, her listening as she went back to her room, closing the door behind her. I grabbed my phone, dialling my dad's number. "Hello?" He muttered after four rings of the third call. "Uh--" I tried to say something, anything; but I haven't talked to him in five months, what was I supposed to say?

"Mom's drunk and crying-- where are you?" I quizzed, hearing the loud weeps and cries coming from her bedroom. "I-- I'll be home in ten minutes." Was all he said, and all the information I needed.

"Mom?" I called out, clutching onto one of my oversized shirts and sweatpants. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She cried out. "No-- I need to help you change. Turn-- turn over." I spoke, and she did. I unbuttoned her wine-stained shirt, pulling it off of her as I put the pyjama shirt on her. And then, I tried to help her with the pants-- but she harshly pushed my hands away.

"I-- I can do this myself! I'm fine!" Mom shouted out, slurring her words. "Now go awaaaay." And the sobs continued. Finally, dad came home. He strutted to the bedroom, his eyes wide. He signalled for me to leave, and so I did, going to my room; but that didn't stop me from listening in.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Don't cry, why are you crying?" I could hear him say. "Don't touch me!" She shouted out. "Why are you crying?" Dad asked again. "Y-- you and your daughter. You're both great people-- but why can't you be great to each other? You both love each other, but why can't you get along? A-- and I'm trying to help you two, but it's not working!"

I could feel this pain in my chest where my heart was beating fast. I could hear yet another one of dad's exasperated sighs before he came knocking on my door. "Can you tell your mother that we are good now?" He requested, and we both went back into the room. "Mom? Dad and I are getting along again." I lied, touching her shoulder.

"No! I don't believe you. No, no, no, no." I sighed again. "Really, him and I are good now." Mom gripped onto my leg, really really hard. "Yea, we talked it through earlier today. She and I are getting along now." Dad tried to help, but it only led to mom saying, "No! No you're not! You're lying! I don't trust you! Only my daughters."

I could feel a lump in my throat. She gripped onto my leg even harder, but I didn't care about it hurting because the pain in my chest overpowered that. Dad let out an angry sigh before rushing out, leaving me alone with my mom.

And as I looked at her again-- her hair messy, her pants dirty, her cheeks stained with tears- I realised I completely didn't recognise my mother; and that scared me so much. I'm not used to this version of her-- I'm used to the one that sang me lullabies right before I went to sleep, I'm used to the one that read me stories of creatures that can only appear in your imagination; and this isn't her.

Or maybe it is how she truly is, I was just too blind to see.

And here is my other realisation: I caused her to be like this. My dad caused her to be like this. My sister caused her to be like this. And together, we finally made her break; and we didn't even know.

"Maybe-- maybe I'm not a good enough mom. A good mom would've been able to help you two--" She started saying again. "No, no, no, no." was all I could utter out. "No, no, no, no." Another wail. Another sob. Another cry. "I'm not a good enough mom." I shook my head, even if I knew she couldn't see it. "No, you're a great mom."

And that pain in my chest only got more painful. That lump in my throat only got bigger. And the tears I tried to hold back with all of my strength only came to the surface as I failed to hide them.

Looking back at her again, I heard her sobs come to a stop as she fell asleep. I could smell the alcohol in the air, and I just couldn't take it anymore; I stood up, marching to my bedroom before breaking down in tears.

You see, I am not one to cry; I've always felt guilty afterwards. But I just couldn't hold it in anymore; it hurt, it hurt so bad, that pain in my chest. Muffled sobs escaped my lips; and even if I hated people seeing this side of my life, I knew there was one person that would help me through thick and thin.

And that was how the worst night of my life went-- tonight, and I have to say, that pain in my chest didn't leave. That guilt after crying didn't leave either.

I love my family, I love them so much; but I hate myself for wishing I could be reborn into a different family. I don't want them to be wealthier, or from a higher class; I just want a mom that isn't miserable, and a dad who isn't negligent, and a sister that isn't clueless.

Just a happy family, where I can come home smiling, expecting a 'welcome home' from my dad, and a 'how was your day' from my mom. Where I don't have to help my mother raise my sister, where my father would help around.

But I didn't have that, and tonight was still the worst night of my life, engraved in my brain as it became just one of my memories.

1325 words

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This is more or less something that happened. My mom came home drunk, and the night just continued on. It was indeed the worst night of my life, and this is also the first time I've really opened up about my sister and her... condition.