Temporary Home

Chapter Three

-Flashback-

"Come on Dillon, it is just a tab." My mom told me, holding a small tab to my face. She was high out of her mind on acid.

"Mama, I do not want to." I said, backing up a little. Her and dad had forced me to do acid the other night with them and I hated every second of it.

This was my life, for as long as I could remember my parents were always doing some form of drugs and forcing me to do so as well. I was not allowed to live a normal life. I was "home-schooled". I could not have any friends. I could not do anything like a normal kid.

"Do not tell me no," she said, angrily. Her pupils expanding even more than I thought could be possible.

"If she doesn't want to have fun, leave the boring ass be." My father said, sitting in the dingy recliner.

"Fine," she said glaring at me. "More for me." She added as she put the tab in her mouth. Shoving me away from her, I fell off the couch. "Go to your room. I do not want to see you."

Getting up as quickly as I could, I ran to my room and locked the door. I did not want to be around them anyways, not when they are high. They treated me terribly all the time, but when their high it is like all the 'love' they have for me goes away and I am their punching bag.

Sitting on my bed, I covered up the best I could with the holey blanket I had. I wanted to be a normal kid, with a normal life. But instead, I was stuck with negligent drug addicted parents.

I do not know how long I was lying in bed just staring at the ceiling, but a big bang broke me out of my thoughts. Startled I looked towards the door, it was still intact thankfully.

"DILLON!" I heard my father roar. "GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE NOW!" His voice was loud but it was like he was stumbling on his words. He must be in the peak of his high.

Standing up from my bed, I walked over to my door and opened it. Standing there was my dad, he had his hands in his pockets and he was staring at me creepily.

"What's wrong dad?" I asked, nervously. He did not answer, he just kept on standing there. "Dad?"

"Philip, Philip, Philip..." I heard my mom repeat my dad's name repeatedly.

"Go help your mother, I do not have time for this." My dad said, grabbing and yanking on my arm pulling me out of my room. Pushing me towards the living room I saw my mom lying on the back of the couch staring at the ceiling. Hearing footsteps she looked up and grinned widely when she saw me and stood up.

"Oh baby girl," she said holding out her arms. "Come here." Walking over to her she pulled me into her grip and hugged me close.

It was silent for a while and I thought she might have fallen asleep or was spaced out. That was until I felt a pain in my shoulder. She bit me.

"Mama!" I yelped in pain, trying to pull away. The grip on my shoulder just becoming tighter as did her arms around me. "Mama, you're hurting me!" I said, crying. Her finger nails were digging into my back. Slightly shoving her away, she finally let go of her grip and just smiled at me and acted like nothing happen she sat back on the couch. Backing away from her, I looked over to see my dad making lines of some white powder on the counter.

Will they ever stop?

That is a dumb question, of course they will not. Drugs are their life source.

"Dillon, come do some lines with me." My dad muttered, "this shit is the good stuff." I shook my head.

"I do not want to." I told him, hearing him scoff as I walked into the kitchen. "Dad, can you please stop doing this to yourself?" I asked him and he looked up and laughed.