Wonderland

CHAPTER 2: Keeping it Together

CHAPTER 2 ║Keeping it Together

I felt like crying, I felt like at any moment I would break down. But how, how the fuck was I supposed to cry to just fall down and sob until I didn't have any more tears to shed. There was literally no way to do that if I was in a freaking coma, how was I supposed to do that motherfucking shit if I didn't have a body to control. I couldn't move or speak or cry. I was just lost.

Again.

This was like my 15th birthday all over again. The difference was that this time I knew I was fucked I knew there was no way I was getting out of this one. I was probably going to be stuck here for a couple years and when the doctors ask my parents if they should just unplug me because they see no improvement, they are most likely going to say yes.

My parents are going to give up on me. Ha. Who the fuck am I kidding. I know my parents aren't going to give up on me. They gave up on me three years ago on my birthday or maybe before, who the fuck knows.

After all the shit lies I feed them and crap I pull with my 'friends', my parents don't trust me. But to be honest, I know they stopped trusting me the second I came home after my birthday party when I turned fourteen

You are probably wondering what the fuck I'm talking about. So for that I think it's finally time I explain to you what's happening or at least what happened.

                                                                           

                                      ♦

It all happened May 4, my 14th birthday. It was a really hot day in Manchester but I didn't care because I was too excited to give a fuck back then.

My friend Tamara said she had a surprise for me, and me being little ol' me I couldn't resist a surprise, so of course I was excited as hell.

My mum couldn't give me a birthday party that year because she supposedly had an extra shift, but I knew that was bull. My mum didn't like my friends, and I knew it. She kept telling me how they were a bad influence or some crap like that. I knew they were a bad influence, but they were fun, so I looked past that.

Honestly, I didn't care I was 14 and rebelling against my parents was something most kids did at my age. But there was a difference with rebelling and being a complete bitch and with the kind of friends I have I knew I was past rebelling.

When Tamara heard that my mum had cancelled my party, Tamara decided to throw one for me at her house. Later on she went to show me my 'surprise'.

My first joint.

I wanna say I was surprised, but it was kind of expected of her. I always saw Tamara drinking and smoking with her friends and some kids from Secondary school.

After that Tamara gave me what I guess you call my first beer. Well, my first 'full' beer. My dad used to give me drinks of his when i was younger.

It had a strong bitter taste that I found acquiring and soon was on my 4th beer.

Later that night or morning considering it was three in the morning, Tamara had someone drive me home since she was a little too drunk to drive or even move.

When my mom saw my bloodshot eyes and smelled my breath, she just gave me the most disappointed look, it was the kind of look that had you begging for forgiveness, but not because it was scary, but because it was really a guilt tripping look. I think my mom expected this from me sooner or later because she stayed that way the rest of the month like she was going to keep expecting this behaviour.

And she was right for the rest of the month or the year, maybe even the time between then and this moment it was the same cycle. Smoking, partying, coming home drunk at least four times a week. She was mad, but too tired to say anything, and up until my 15th birthday was when she snapped. She was screaming at me and I was a little scared thinking she was going to hit me.

When my mom had finished screaming at me, I started to feel the effects of my party earlier and I wasn't talking about the effects the drugs had on me. A couple hours before a girl who accused me of stealing 'her' beer had hit me with a bottle on the head, but I was too fucked up to even feel it. Until now.

My mom got even more mad at the fact that I looked like a bus ran over me and that was when she decided to send me to fucking rehab. Rehab! Like seriously, who the fuck even goes to rehab. But anyways, back to the point.

A couple hours later my mum took me to the hospital because I had to take a physical exam before 'rehab' and that was when I fainted.

That was basically the last memory I had of my fifteenth birthday up until I awoke from my coma.