Me and Gregory chat about our days on the mike walk from the bus stop to our slum of a house pretending that we're normal kids. We step foot on the porch and are snapped back into our home life. We creep into the house as quietly as we creep out and always try our best to arrive into our rooms without being noticed.
Most of the time mom and dad are too drunk to know what time of day it is. At this time of day it is also a possibility that they could be asleep and hungover also, or even out partying with their low-life friends. We go into our rooms and wait for a few hours keeping to ourselves and when it is known that we are the only ones in the house, me and Greg go downstairs to eat.
Theirs always food in the house, or at least something to eat. Never a meal, never fresh, and usually not even healthy, but there is always something. Greg was 17 so he always made sure I had something to eat before him because I was his little sister. We scavenged the cupboards and eventually found a sleeve of crackers, some stale cereal, and to our surprise even some juice. It was orange juice so as soon as we saw it, we knew that it was only for their mixed alcoholic drinks, although dad usually drinks the vodka straight from the bottle without bothering to delute it with something.
We ate until we heard the muffler of the pickup truck clinking and clanking up the driveway. Dad staggered in with not my mom but another woman. This was an often occurrence believe it or not. Both of my parents who were married to eachother, would often get bored of the other and bring in someone knew. I was sure that my mother was out with a guy other than my dad at that very moment.
Dad was so drunk he didn't notice us and went straight to the bedroom with his new lady friend who was equally as drunk. Me and Greg exchanged looks. As I looked into is eyes that day i saw ones much like my own; blue/green eyes that have seen things that should never have been done. They have cried a great number of tears and have been awake for nights on end. We were too young to be subjected to a life like this.
Everyday it was something different. I lived in a world of turmoil and distress. My family was a whirling wind of flames, constantly knocking eachother down repeatedly. Just as one was ready to stand up on their feet again; in came another storm.
