Addicted - Adam's Story

Chapter Two - Little Me (6-7) Fighting

There it was again. The yelling. The lies. The fighting. My head burned and my ears rang loudly. I pressed my hands to my ears as I walked over to shut my bedroom door. I shut it quickly and ran over to my earphones. I took my phone out of my pocket and plugged my earphones in. I put them in my ears and put Guns 'n' Roses on. The lyrics soothed me a little even though I knew my parents were in the other room fighting.

I could still hear mum getting thrown around the room, getting pushed into doors and slammed into the floor. I winced each time I heard this. I knew what daddy was doing and I knew I didn't like it and neither did mum, but I couldn't stop it.

I had walked out there once and had realized what had been going on, and that memory haunted me. Whenever I heard them fight, I get horrible visions of mum covered in blood and dad punching her in the face. He had never broken her jaw, just left her with a few scratches and bruises. Okay, maybe a little more then a few and defiantly not just scratches.

I cried every time they were fighting. Every single time. But they never stopped.

They always fought about the same thing. Dad going to the pub and mum smoking weed. Mum didn't like dad going to the pub and dad didn't like mum smoking weed.

Mum said she wouldn't have a problem with my dad going to the pub if he let her smoke weed in peace, but since he wouldn't she had a problem with his alcohol.

Guns 'n' Roses weren't helping today though. They couldn't block out the harsh yelling and name calling.

My ears throbbed. Either because my music was too loud or my parents fighting was too harsh.

I hated when they fought for the simple reason of I had to hear Mum's screams of pain. I hated it when I could hear it. And today I could. Mum hadn't taken me to school, I wish I had gone with James.

When I stayed home mum and I smoked pot all day. It was fun. I mean doing something with my mum was amazing. Mum and I hardly did things together.

But I should have gone with James today. Whenever I smoked with mum the fights were worse. They were ten times worse. Dad didn't like me smoking. Mum said it was okay to smoke if I wanted to, and sometimes I did want to.

But I hated the fights. I should just stop smoking with mum. Dad could tell when I did smoke with mum because even when I didn't my clothes smelt like pot because of the aroma of the house.