When I was a younge girl, my parents used to do drugs and had drinking problems... I would try to hide from them but they always ground me and punished me.
I never knew what I was doing wrong.
Last year during my 2nd year of collage I got a call from the hospital saying that my mom was over dosed, severely injured, and they couldn't find my dad anywhere.
Like I cared.
They could die if they wanted too.
But I still went to the hospital. For it was I that my mom wanted to see.
I drove to the hospital and went to my mothers room.
When she saw me she broke into tears.
"You have such a good life!" She complained as she kept balling her eyes out
"your father is dead. He's not coming back. He died last night, but I didn't have the guts to tell the doctors yet."
Of course, I was in shock at what I had just heard. This was huge news. It's not like I loved my parents, but I cared for them. Despite what they did to me as a child.
"how did he die?" I asked her
"I killed him." She responded
"mom?!" I screamed at her as I started to tear up too
"once you left to go off to college, he took his anger out on me. He didn't have you to beat up anymore. I pulled the trigger. He's still lieing in bed where I left him dead."
I ran out of the room, told the doctors and never spoke to her again. I had herd rumors about her going to jail but never knew if they were true.
I was left without my parents.
I had a job but I wasn't well paid.
My life was a complete mess, that is, until I met Carter.
