Borderline

Pity..

I remember getting to the hospital with so many feelings of guilt. I felt guilt because I let him in, I opened that front door. My mother told me not to and I still did. I can still hear her voice on the phone saying if she didn’t let him back in it never would have happened.

I seen my father he was weak and bruised. He had so much dried blood around his face. My eyes glycined but tears never fell. I was scared, did he blame me to. He told me he loved me. He then thanked me, he thanked me for trying to help him. I remember I didn’t speak much. There were so many things I wanted to say but I couldn’t get them out. It was a strange feeling of unsureness. My father just told me he loved me. Those were words unspoken in my home. Those words were used so little I didn’t know how to say them back to him.

I can remember we didn’t stay long. She brought me back home. I can still see my little feet walking past the pool of blood that my father left behind hours earlier.

I don’t remember her speaking much to me. I was young but I knew she was acting strange. I knew it didnt seem right, she didn’t look sad or hurt. As I tried for a moment not to worry and prey for everything to be ok I could hear her on the phone in the other room. Her words were  hurtful, she spoke about how he deserved it because he was beating her. She cried and told them how much he hurt her. This wasn’t true I was there begging her to stop fighting with him. She talked about how he was drinking and getting high so it’s his own fault. But I knew different, I knew it was her who started partying so early. I knew it was her who wanted him gone so she could have more drugs. It was always that way, if my father was gone there was more for her.

Things slowly got a little bit better after my dad got home. I remember he would rest and take it easy. He wasnt partying for a while. But life would quickly go back to the same normal that I knew. I remember he was leaving  to band practice she was yelling at him because he was going. She was saying nasty things and she was upset that he’d be able to drink and party. I honestly believe she was frustrated with having to be home with me.

Empty cans piled up. I remember her talking about things I didn’t want to hear. She would tell me that my father was a scumbag and he doesn’t love us. She’d look for me to pity her, she’d show me bruises of how he’d beat her. I’ll never forget those nights. She took a pill bottle out of the bathroom. She told me to watch her as she started to take them one by one. I cried, I begged, I pleaded. Please don’t, please don’t. She sat in a recliner chair at the end of that old paneling filled living room. She told me to tell her how much I loved her because she couldn’t take living in world where no one cared for her. I begged her to stop I cried so hard to her. I told her that I loved her, I care please no mommy don’t do this to me, don’t leave me. She told me to prey to the angels. I remember my exhausted body standing beside her for what seemed like an eternity. I was scared to fall asleep because I needed to know she was still breathing. I remember holding so tightly on an angel knick knack from the shelf. I remember I preyed my hardest for God to keep her here with me. Somewhere in the late night I fell asleep next to that chair. I remember the next morning I awoke immediately at the first noise I heard. It was my mom getting up from that chair. I was happy she was alive, but I was hurt that she could even think of leaving me. I can still see her puffy eyed face look down at me as I’m still holding tightly onto that angel, she said to me “your preying to the angels still.” It was as she never did anything. She never apologized for hurting me so badly she just continued about her day.

I remember I never said anything to anyone about that night. I was afraid. I knew that if I told someone she’d be taken away, I knew that I didn’t want a new family I wanted mine. Days go by and it’s always the same. If there was a good day it was always filled with worry. I’d worry about what is going to trigger the next fight.

I remember a fight had started. Arguments kept up, and she was on the phone. I can hear her voice telling them as she told me previous, no one loves her, she’s always felt alone because no one cares. She started to talk about wanting to die. My tiny heart raced and was full of hurt. Why is my love not enough. I love her, why does she not see this. I told her please don’t talk like that anymore. Please mommy stop.

She told the phone call good bye, she said I love you but you never loved me. She tells me how she can’t take living anymore. She slowly walks to the back door and heads to the back porch. She took the clothes line and wrapped it around her neck. She tells me how she should just jump because life is to hard. I panic and scream no. I panic because I watched my dad fall just months prior. I knew he was lucky I knew he should not have survived that fall, I knew in my tiny body I would not get so lucky to keep another parent if it happened again. I pull on the rope and plead with her. It was so familiar that I’m standing here pleading out the same words as before. Please don’t leave me. Please mommy I love you.

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