So everything I'm about to say is true. I don't want people to weep over me, feel bad. I'm not a charity case I don't believe that bullshit. But I do want people to understand why I am like I am, why I do what I do. And that's gonna take a lot of explaining.
My name is Ali Vaughn.
I was born on April 18, 2002. Fayetteville Arkansas.
I have a brother, Brayden.
A dad, Matt.
A mom, Jennifer.
I guess you could call me pretty, I have brown hair and blue eyes. A lot of guys have called me hot, sexy. But none of those guys matter. So I still can't decide if they were lying.
When I was little I went to butterflied from k-5, then I went to McNair 6-7, then woodland for 8th. And now I'm at the high school. With the big dogs.
So I'm just gonna get to the point. A lot of people don't like me, are scared of me, or think of me as some washed up junky. And they are right, I like to drink, have fun. But that's how I grew up.
When I was 8 i came home from school and my dad was home. That was strange for him to be home but I brushed it off I was only 8. It was not till my mom and brother got home I knew something was wrong. My dad went crazy, screaming and yelling and throwing stuff. My mom just cried, and I covered my ears. It got to the point where my mom called her and my dads best friend Eric. He came and took my dad away. The whole time they were fighting I kept getting this smell like nail polish remover. I could smell it when my dad yelled and In a sonic cup my mom threw at him.
What do you think when your 8 and see you dad try to choke your mom while your brother is holding them apart? Excatly. You don't. I was scared, I did not know what to do. But again I was only 8 so I brushed it off.
It was like that for a weeks, my dad would be home when I got home. My mom would come home. They would fight. I would smell the same smell. He would fall asleep on the floor. Wake up crying and sick. Every day, day, after day, after day. Until one day I came home and he was not there. My mom and brother came home and they told me "you dads gone camping with the boys for a few days."
In the back of my mind I knew they were lying. But I was only 8.
I stared to miss my dad. He was gone for a week. A quite peaceful week with no fighting no one crying, screaming. It was nice.
Like I said my mom told me he was camping so that's what I thought it was. On the 7th day he was gone my mom came in my room and sat me down.
"Ali your dad was not camping, he's in the hospital......he's not hurt he's not gonna die, he's just sick"
Just sick
Just sick
Just sick
Those words burn in the back of my mind
every time I take a sip.
I'm just sick.
I still did not understand what she meant by saying he was sick. It confused me. But I did not worry after all I was still 8.
And so my dad came home the next day wigs. Brown paper bag and a wristband that read "spring woods patient"
And everyone was happy......for a month.
When I turned 9 I thought I was a big girl. I thought nothing could stop me. I was wrong. It happened again. I came home and there was my dad. And that smell, it burned my nose and my lungs when I smelt his drink.
My mom came home.
And they fought, this time my mom packed me and my brother and bad and we stayed at my grandparents.
This went on for months, ever hotbed day they would fight. I would Bc scared to leave the house Bc I thought they would fight and one of them would leave for good. And never come back, I thought "if I leave I will never see one of them again" I thought I was the only thing keeping them from ripping each other apart when they fought. The only thing keeping our family together.
