A Series of One-Shots

Family Affairs

This was written for the "Teen Writer's Challenge" on my home website, freewritersandreaders.ning.com!

My prompt word was "Scarfifice" :)

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Family Affairs

One of the scariest experiences a child can ever witness is a person going through withdrawal. Whether that person is a stranger, a parent, a sibling, or a close friend, it is scarring. It is an image that’ll forever be etched into your mind.

The first time I saw my mother go through withdrawal, I remained cowering in a corner with my brothers until my uncle came to get her and took her to the hospital. But before then, she’d been a walking zombie. She had warbled nonsense about anything and everything, screamed hate at my brothers, tried to hit us. She had tried to scratch through her skin to reach the itch that could only be satisfied by popping a pill or something similar.

We were only ages twelve, eleven, and ten. My eldest brother, Vance, did his best to stand guard and protect us from her. He did, too, but he got hurt in the process and we never thanked him for it.

Looking back on that day, I realize that not thanking him was the worst thing we had ever done. Vance had always been our protector. Every time we had gotten into trouble or mom had resorted back to her habits, he had always been there to defend us.

I wish I had had the insight to thank him or tell him I loved him for all he did. Maybe everything wouldn’t have gone so wrong…

It started with my younger brother, Clayton. At the age of fifteen, he started smoking pot. By seventeen, he was heavily into more hardcore drugs. He died of an overdose the day before his eighteenth birthday.

Mom had already gone to rehab and had gotten clean. She had a relapse two weeks after she got out. She blamed Clayton. And because everything had been Clayton’s fault, Vance had arranged and paid for Clayton’s entire funeral.

Where Vance had always been my protector, my relationship with Clayton had always been different. He had been my best friend, my confidant, and my shoulder to cry on. I had already been on the fine line between having fun and substance abuse. Clay’s death had just pushed me over the edge.

At the age of nineteen, I lost myself completely. My mother was dead to me. My brother was actually dead. My dead beat father was nowhere to be found. All I had was Vance.

After Clay passed away, Vance offered me anything I could’ve wanted or needed. I had refused everything and after a while, he stopped offering. A little longer and he stopped calling all together. My big brother had moved on. I’d had no one in the world but myself.

I hated it that way.

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Standing nervously in front of the door for ten minutes hadn’t been my best idea. The neighbors probably thought I was stoned out of my mind. I probably would’ve been, but…things came up. Things that helped me change. Finally, after psyching myself out completely, I hesitantly reached out and knocked on the door.

What are you doing? My mind whispered. I didn’t even know if he still lived here. I hadn’t checked in a phonebook or anything. I had just assumed.

I knocked again after a minute.

There was a car in the driveway… Maybe no one was home. Maybe they had taken one car or they had walked somewhere. Maybe they just didn’t want to answer the door.