Bad News Isn't Enough (My Bio)

The Ish (not issue)

Though the bullying is still bad my mother and father fought a lot. Sometimes I would cry myself to sleep thinking these arguments were my fault. Once, when I was in third grade, my parents had an awful fight. It ended in tears and screaming. My mom screamed twice from anger and depression, like despair. I walked up to the door to her room, and stood there for a good five minutes, and opened the door. My mom was sitting on the bed crying, a knife on the bed, and everything was a mess. I worried for her mental ability. I thought she went crazy. There was a freaking hole in the door. My mom just sat there, with me whaching. I waited for my dad to come home for hours, he never did. A few weeks later he came home. I ignored him for hours. We didn't bring it up mostly because we were all uncomfortable with it. We lived with my grandmother, she had a bad smoking problem. She helped us a lot. We had many deaths in our family but this was the worst one. She got really bad cancer. I don't remember it very clearly but I remember she would share her sweets with us. We watched cake and cupcake competitions for hours on end. At the time we were happy we didn't pay much attention to the cancer slowly taking over my grandmother. I remember the day before my grandmother died she said,"Rachel is that sweet little girl coming again." She was referring to me. I had to exit the room and calm myself down. I literally woke up to doctors taking my grandmother. I ran to her and held her hand but was separated from her when they went out the door. The drive there was silent. We knew she was going to die that day. The sad part was 1/2 I watched my grandma die in front of me 2/2 I never held her hand in the hospital. I stayed a decent distance away for hours. We did the normal crying until we couldn't breath thing and left. I could have sworn she opened her eyes and looked at me and my sister before she died. It felt peaceful yet lonely that day and I was way to tired from crying, my other grandma took me to go to her house and get ice cream :b. Once I got in fourth grade my grades got really really shitty and this is when we moved to a new house. I was almost held back, almost. But then my dad got an alcohol addiction. He tried to hide it in front of me yet failed miserably. He would always walk in the room and shove vodka under the cushion. After that I would always tell him he was an asshole and he was even more painful than a woman's period. That made my sister laugh. My mom started collecting the bottles just to show him how much of a dick he was to his family. We're his family, his damn family, his damnly if you will. He turned on us so quickly. He got mad and took his anger out on me when we were home alone together. He started hitting me. My school wasn't concerned at all. I tried to run away several times but ended up thinking about my mum and sister. I couldn't leave them. I'll never leave my family. They love me, I can't break their heart. One day at school my teacher yelled at the fourth grade because we weren't trying hard enough. I told my teacher, "I'm not trying hard? I'm not trying hard?! Everyday I wake up a 5:45 in the morning and get ready! I have an alcoholic as a father!! And you're telling me I don't try hard enough?!? Go to hell!" Of course I got in trouble after that. I didn't care. I said what I had to say and she never bothered me about it again. People started respecting me after that and just when my life was getting good, a fire happened. It was at the end of fourth grade there was a massive fire. It got up to 52,000 acres long, I'll never forget that number. Anyway, we had moved to Big Bear and--