Approaching Too Far Gone: An Addiction Memoir

Family Business

"NO, please! Don't take her!" I scream, as my mom is slowly drug up the stairs. I chase after her, but I can't catch up.

My sister's scream, "Ant, please do something! Please save mom!"

I run up the stairs and find my mom crying as she is pulled her by her hair down the hallway and into her bedroom. I run with all my might to reach the door in time.

WHAM! The door slams in my face.

"Mom? Mom, are you okay?" I yell through the door. I try to open it, but it's locked.

"HA HA HA," a strange laugh bellows. "Your mom belongs to me! Nobody can save her!"

"Who are you? What do you want with my mom?" I yell as I look for a weak spot to break open the door.

"My name is no concern to you. Her time is up. I'm taking her with me," he announces.

I wind up to kick in the door—

BOOM! An explosion of light blinds me. I put my hands in front of my face and feel for my surroundings. A high-pitched ringing fills my ears as I attempt to call out for my mom.

When I regain my sight, the door is gone and I am standing just inside my parent's bedroom, staring at our family picture hanging on the far wall. In a trance, I walk towards it.

I scan all of the faces in the picture: mine, Aubrey's, Angie's, my dad's, and my mom's. Everything is the same. Then, my mom's face goes up in flames, and as quick as the fire starts, it is gone—her face now burned away. The ringing in my ears stops and that same deep voice whispers in my ear, "She is mine now."

I turn around, and my mom is gone.

***

I wake up in a cold sweat and anxiously look around the room, then sigh in relief. It was only a dream.

I check my phone and it reads ten o'clock Wednesday morning. With it being a day off work and summer break, sleeping so late usually means a fun night. Instead, I arrived home from college to our "normal" situation: my mom drunk again and belittling her family. My grandma, Palma (Dad's mom), had traveled an hour to visit us before we departed on our vacation to Disney World, so I traded in Zac Brown Band tickets for a night of "babysitting." When my grandma is around, we have to be extra careful my mom doesn't take her drunken anger out on her as she has done too many times in the past. Fortunately, on this night my sisters and I successfully kept our mom at bay. Nevertheless, I can't shake the dream I just had. I jump out of bed and walk straight towards my parents' bedroom.

"Mom? Are you in there? Mom?" I call out through the well-worn wooden door. Though she usually locks herself in her room, my mom always answers when I call for her. Not this time.

I put my ear to the door to see if I can hear anything as memories of the dream start rushing through my head. My palms sweat and my heart pounds in my chest. It's too quiet. I need to know she's okay.

I try calming myself with the thought of her in a heavy sleep. It doesn't help. I fear the worst.

"MOM! MOM! OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!" Again, no answer.

I contemplate breaking it down. I'm sure my dad will not be happy when he comes home to more splintered wood, but oh well. My mom's life is more important.

I take a deep breath, and just like the dream, I raise my leg to kick, but then I stop.

All around the door are reminders of our family secret: a patched-up hole on the right from one of my mental breakdowns (I try not to let my anger get the best of me, but it always turns ugly), another patched up hole in the middle of the door from when my father reached his breaking point (literally), and a chipped-out section of wood in the bottom corner from the first time my youngest sister experienced the unprovoked wrath of my mother. (Despite her small stature, her kick left permanent damage.)