Human // c.d

44

After the years of living on my own without my mother, I always thought there'd be one day when she'd call. Maybe wish me a Happy Birthday or even the littlest thing of saying hey.

God, she use to be the best mother, the kind of mother where all of your friends would talk about how cool she is. The kind of mother that taught you how to drive, to read, a mother who understands you the way a father can't. It's not like I had a father either, though. I never knew him, and I never asked about him. I had grew up thinking I was made to not have one. Whenever I was little, I use to thing a father was a fairy tale, that's until 3rd grade whenever we had "parent day". All of my classmates had both of their parents with them, and I only had my mother. I was confused as hell, I thought there was something wrong with me for not having a father chained to my side. I was so innocent, I had always thought happy thoughts. But, that day.. I felt different. I felt like my "mommy" wasn't enough for me, and that I was normal like all of the other kids.

But I had learned real quick as I aged. My mom was really all I needed. She had took me shopping, fed me, helped me. I can't sit here and tell you what a perfect mother is, but I can assure you my mother was pretty damn close to it.

But you know, everything changes someday. I know for sure that my mother did.

She'd been introduced to drugs, and they practically took over her life. I didn't know who she was anymore. Hell, she didn't either.

I was a fourteen year old, coming home to a red eyed mother who didn't even recognize me half the time, her face aged quickly, and the house was a mess. I would clean it half the time, but her friends would visit and trash it up again.

She wouldn't buy groceries, wouldn't pay the bills half the time. I was miserable at home, and school was fun for me. School meant getting away from home, getting away from the bad influences. I made good grades, studied hard. I was focused on my future.

That's until the day I confronted her about everything. I was only sixteen years old when I had finally got enough courage to stand up to the pitiful woman that had made my life a living hell. I had stood up for myself like she had always taught me whenever I was younger, and I didn't leave out a single detail.

I remember her pushing me around, screaming at me. It's like she was offended from my words towards her.

She had pushed me out the door, stuffing a fifty dollar bill into my hands, and she said, "Since you know everything about living right," and she made sure to emphasize the words "right", "How about you live on your own."

I remember the evil-like smile she had given me while shutting the door in my face.

I had taken a train that day, I had no clue to where I was going, but somehow I ended up in New York, babysitting for Diane.

"Why are you crying?" I asked Cameron, my dull mood had faded onto him. He took me back to the apartment, and that's when I finally told him. His eyes were so wide, but mine weren't.

I don't know how to feel honestly. I just don't understand anything.

"Why aren't you crying?" His eyes were watery, and his lips were trembling.

I can't believe he's crying right now. I hate it when he cries.

"I-" my eyes were focused on the floor, and reality was slowly hitting me. "I don't know." I answered truthfully, and I could feel myself wanting to cry. Wanting to curl up in a ball, and sleep until the pain fades.

Cameron clawed at his face, "I'm so fucking mad." His anger scared me, and his scream/whisper voice was new to me.

"I just wish I could deal with this for you." He said, gritting his teeth together.

"I'm fine Cameron." I whispered, my eyes were closed as I sat at the edge of the bed. I fiddled with my hands, distracting myself from the world.

The cruel fucking world.

"No the fuck you're not, look at you." He did the scream/whisper again, and he's going to make me cry if he doesn't stop. I'm trying my best to stay strong, and this dumbass is going to ruin it.

"There's nothing wrong with me." I said, but I knew what he meant.

"You were right, there is always something that goes wrong whenever everything perfect. Why us? Why can't things be simple?" He was calming down, taking deep breaths.

"I'm sorry that my mother died." I was ill, and I'm no meaning to take it out on him.

"Baby." He walked over to me, sitting himself beside me. "I didn't mean it like that. I just don't know why this had to happen. You don't deserve this, okay? Just remember that." He brought me closer to him, wrapping his arms around me.

"I'm gonna take care of you."