Demons

Chapter 7

LACEY'S POV

I wake up with a massive headache and a cut shoulder. In my bathroom with the door locked. At three in the morning. What the hell? I slowly attempt to get up, wincing from the shooting pain from the wound. Crawling out of the bathroom, I see a passed out Sandra on our couch and a broken liquor bottle on the floor next to her. Oh, so that's what happened. Memories of pain and hurtful words flood back and are sealed forever into my brain from last night. From Sandra screaming and mocking me to her hitting me with a bottle of vodka, I remember everything because I wasn't the one sloshed. I stumble to get the First Aid Kit and pull out the alcohol swabs along with a huge band aid.

Thankfully, the bottle did not leave shards of glass in the cut, this time. After I am done, I run to my bedroom and cry. Again. You'd think that by now, it wouldn't hurt so much. It shouldn't hurt so much. But it does.

A knock on my door snaps me out of my thoughts. Reluctantly, I open it and immediately flinch as I see my mother standing in the door frame. She has no weapon, which is a surprise. Her blonde hair hung on her shoulders in waves and she looked as if she has been crying. Okay, what is going on?

"Baby, I am so... sorry." The only words that she manages to get out before breaking into sobs surprise me even more. Is this one of her mood swings? I take one more step away from her out of caution.

"I never meant to hurt you. I love you, forgive me." She is so confusing right now. I can't even look away from her, no matter how hard I try.

"I know I hurt you all the time and baby, I am so, so sorry. Please." She begs. "I want to be a good mother. I promise I will never drink again." She always promises this, but something tells me she might be sincere this time.

"I can't... I don't know what to say." I stagger on my words.

"I know baby, but I am here for you now." No she's not, you can't possibly be buying this my conscience reminds me. I know I can't, but if I fight her I will just be feeding into her hidden hatred and anger for me. The temporary lets me escape the reality that will come shooting in in the morning.

"Baby, I had wanted to tell you something for a while now, but I have been - busy, the past few nights." Sandra broke the silence, stroking my uncurled hair. Busy? Oh, she must mean the drinking; my conscience nearly makes me laugh as I realize that that's what Sandra actually means. I didn't speak up or call her out for it though; I want to know what she is talking about.

"Do you know why your father is dead?" I expected news worthy of The New York Time's headlines.

"Yes." I sigh, full of disappointment. So I see that we are still dwelling in the past. After all, retrospection is what caused the alcoholism in the first place. I do not really know the whole story. All that I know is that my father was a drug addict and died from overdose, but that was it. My father was full of mysteries, ones I am unwilling to solve. However, I do not want my mother to explain it, she will end up crying or taking "her last bottle of vodka." In all honesty, I just want to fall asleep in my mother's arms. Is that too much to ask?

"Well, you already know he was a drug addict and he was kind of close with his dealers." My mother sucks in her breath before adding, "As I was." I know that usually people are friends with their dealers, but why does it matter if she was friends with them? Is my mother a drug addict?

"No, I do not do drugs. I do learn from some mistakes, though it does not seem like it." Sandra reads my mind, again indirectly referencing the alcohol.

"I do not want to talk about him, mother." I spoke, resolution clear in my voice.

"Um okay then. You must be tired. I will leave you alone for the night." I heard my mother say as she shifted from under me and gently placed my head on my pillow. Suddenly, I forgot all about her beatings, few but painful. I forgot how I called the police on her twice for hurting me so much and how I went to therapy, which actually helped. I forgot about the night that she came back from jail after someone had mysteriously bailed her out but never came home. Snapped away from my thoughts, I pulled my mother back to lay down with me.