I remember the day, the few fateful hours in which everything changed. My mother went out to the bar with her girlfriends one night and when she returned, she was a whole different person.
"Mom, when is Dad coming home, it's been more than three weeks already!" I whined.
"I don't know. I'm very tired and I don't feel like talking about it so please go to bed," she said in a trembling voice I assumed was emotional.
"But mom, -!"As I started to protest, my mother slammed her hands down on the kitchen counter. I assumed wrong.
"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP AND GET OUT!!" My mother screamed like she has never screamed before. It scared me, not because of my own safety, although that too, but because I felt like a stranger was screaming at me, not my own mother.
That summer night, I went to the park by my house and sat on the swings all night long. I had frozen in my spot and didn't think to lie on the bench. I returned, all cold and wide-eyed in the morning, to find my mother passed out on the living room couch. When she woke up, she didn't remember the drunken night or maybe she pretended not to and acted as if everything was normal. However, this night was not a one- time event. As the empty wine bottles were replaced by liquor, my mother's violent episodes became more frequent and more violent. She was spiraling into her addiction and all I could be thankful for was that I didn't have more siblings to share this burden with and her hangovers where she mellowed and acted more like a zombie than anything else. Those were the worst six years of my life.
When I turned eighteen, I left my past behind with a pantry full of non-perishable food and a note for my mother. It read:
Dear Mother,
I tried to help you, I really did. You didn't listen when you were sober and got violent when you were drunk. I was twelve. I didn't know what to do; I still don't know what to do. How could you leave me like that, knowing I would be alone? Anyways, I have two jobs now, found my own place and am going to college. If you need to contact me in case of an emergency, I'm leaving my phone number. Don't you dare call me when you're drunk.
905-813-2846
Alice
"Alice," my mother is back, "Alice, I'm so sorry."
I hear a sob and then it's dark again.
YOU ARE READING
Everyone was there
Teen FictionHuge, flashing orbs of white and red dance in my vision. I see blurred, panicked faces with open mouths but no sound comes out. It's as if I'm in some kind of zone where my brain blocks out all my senses in order to protect itself. I don't feel anyt...
