Dana

Chapter Eight

When my father left, something inside my mom broke. Something in her just snapped, never to be put back together again, never to be fixed. I always thought all that falling apart and breaking shit was overrated and melodramatic and that surely people survived and moved on eventually if a loved one left them or died. I thought their lives gradually went back to normal.

I was so wrong.

My parents had loved each other and when he left, it was like he took mom's soul with him, leaving behind an empty shell for us.

My father's name was Alexander Wolfe. He was the owner of the local garage in our town when he was living with us and he used to spend most of his days over there. He had been a laid back guy and was always there when we needed him.

My mom had been fine, before he left. She cooked for us, watched her favorite shows, drove into town to get groceries. She used to help Hunter and I with our homework.

But all that changed when dad left.

To this day, I don't know exactly what caused him to leave. Mom said he had something very important to do, but we never believed her; we concluded that they had had a fight and she didn't want to tell us. He was just gone one day, leaving my mom in shattered and broken pieces.

Leaving a nine year old and her thirteen year old brother to pick up those pieces.

Mom was unwilling to let go of him. For a long time, she waited for him to come back. The realization that he probably won't ever come back hit her so hard that she fell; fell down a deep dark hole that was impossible to climb out of.

She began smoking excessively. She gradually lost interest in her surroundings and in us. We would ask her something and she wouldn't even pretend to listen or try to answer. She remained in her room day and night. I would take her meals to her and she just sat there not talking, not looking at me, just staring into space, emotionless.

A year after dad left, she started hallucinating. She would talk to thin air like she was talking to dad. Sometimes, she would tell me to keep food in the microwave because dad was going to be a bit late coming home from work.

At first, we tried to talk to her, to convince her that dad was really gone and that she should move on. But she never seemed to hear us and always threw an aggressive fit that ended in Hunter or I getting slapped or scratched badly.

So, we would just let her be and go along with whatever she thought her reality was.

When she was diagnosed with schizophrenia, three years after dad left, I didn't even know what it was. Hunter had to explain it to me.

Mom's mental health really began deteriorating. She became incapable of coherent speech or thoughts. She became an outcast, shunned by the community that she used to be an active part of.

It was so hard, watching someone you love crumble and fall like that. Especially your own mother.

Then, Hunter had to leave. I was fifteen and completely alone. Night after night, I used to lay awake in bed, waiting for her to wake up and scream or have a fit; she was always saying that there were people after her, trying to kill her. I had to put her back to sleep, I would barely manage four or five hours of sleep, six if I was lucky.

And now, my father had managed to interfere with our lives again, threatening to wreak havoc once more. It felt like I hadn't even known him when he was with us; like he was a different person altogether. My dad couldn't be involved with people like Jared and his father. At least, not the dad I used to know.

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"So my dad is a mobster and Lorenzo's worst enemy? Do you know how ridiculous that is? My dad the mobster! No way, that is utter bullshit."