Road to Evergreen | #Wattys2016

t h r e e

It's late and I assume that Harry is sleeping. I turn the keys on the lock of the apartment and enter quietly. I look around and Harry is fast asleep on the coach, remote in his hand, and his favorite TV show is on.

I enter his room and return with his blanket. Seconds later, he's covered and my heart aches at the sight of him. He looks so harmless, so delicate. He doesn't deserve a life growing up without his parents looking out for him. I can do as much as I can to compensate, but in the end, I know it's not enough. It can never be.

I turn off the TV and head to my room. My bed is plain with purple sheets and the walls are white and dull with an exception of some pictures hanging of my brother, Megan and I. There's a window just above my bed that looks out to a red brick wall. I always wanted a view that looks over a river. A river that flows and runs taking anything that comes in its way. Instead, I got this.

I lay in bed, unable to sleep. I find myself wondering about Christian. I make a vow to find out his name next time I see him. That is if I see him. The possibility to that is null. You lose again, Lesley. The voice in my head just doesn't know when to shut up.

I can't help but think that I have seen him before. He has those shades of green that you can never forget once you look in them. They are mesmerising and consuming. I close my eyes and let myself fall asleep with the image of him wandering its way through my mind.

I wake up in the middle of the night vomiting. I'm utterly disgusted with myself. The nightmares keep coming back. For a while I thought they stopped, that I finally found peace within my self. But now they are back, haunting me again.

I toss around in bed several times before I give up. I check the clock; it's 5:00 a.m. Well, at least I have several hours left to work on my creative writing assignment due for tomorrow.

But first, I need a good cup of hot chocolate.

As I enter the kitchen, I glance at the window. It's raining again.

God, I hate Mondays.

Grabbing my mug, I open my laptop and scroll through my music library and finally decide on The Fray. So now, earphones on: check. A cup of hot chocolate: check. Laptop: check. My inspiration and creativity: check.

Five minutes later, I find myself still staring at the blank screen in front of me. Next thing I know, I'm scratching "my inspiration and creativity" out of my mental checking list. I sigh and type what comes first to my mind: Run With The River: A Novel by Lesley Parker.

My face jerks backward as my mother stumbles her way into the apartment. I get up to help her to her room before she wakes up Harry, again. She stares at me and I stare back. Her eyes are swollen red instead of its usual blue. Her hair is a mess and the scent of liquor could be smelled 100 miles away. She doesn't say a word and neither do I. I feel that I already know what she wants to say: I'm sorry. Every time she fucks up, she apologises again and again and again. I lost count after thirty.

I guide her to her room and she falls face first on the mattress. I leave and return with a cup of water and some aspirin and lay them down next to her on the counter. I know she will need them in the morning.

After all, no matter how bad of a mother she could be, there was a time she used to be the best. After my father died, she lost her grip on life. I understand where she is coming from, but this has to end.

I just need to gather up my strength to do so.