"Mom, Mom!" When I saw her sprung across the floor with the needle not to far away, I knew what happened. She overdosed again. I took my two fingers and gently pressed them at the ring of her throat. No pulse. I ran across the street trying to avoid traffic and pulled the slightly rusted quarter out my pocket and threw it into the payphone. 911 What's your emergency? My mom has od'd! I need an ambulance at Courton Heights Apartments! I hung up and jolted back home. And when I saw her body laying there still, I knew it was too late. When I saw her get taken out on the gurney I ran outside and looked up purposely avoiding the tears that hit the pavement. I was followed by a police officer. Hey kid, come with me. Wow, that's a way to address someone who just lost their mother. So sympathetic. I followed him to a police car that had a dent in the passenger side door.
"Hop in the front." My tears blurred the words of the sign we pulled up at. Cleveland's Home For Boys. My heart was beating out of my chest.
We entered into a room.
My shoes squeaked against the marble floor with each step I took. A woman walked in. She was skinny with red blushing cheeks and golden blonde hair.
"Hi! What's your name?"
The only sound you heard was the sound of the police officer slamming the wooden door. . It was silence.
YOU ARE READING
Pained.
Teen FictionChildhood? Never had one. I had to grow up way too fast for that. Never knew my father. My mother was always strung out on drugs. The only thing I had was my guitar and my notepad. that's all I had. that's all I needed.
