The colder months..
Time had past and I was back at home. It was my normal and all I knew. There were fights and chaos but it was my home. It was my sanctuary, my family. I remember my mother always on the hunt for her next fix. She’d do anything to get what she wanted. I remember when a friend of my parents moved in on the first floor of that beat up blue house. I never liked him much, he always gave me a creepy vibe. My mother would party with him regularly and so did my father at times. I never felt uncomfortable when my dad was there it was only when she was alone with him. I knew if I said anything about the events that were about to occur to my father she’d scold me. She’d fight and make me pity her. She’d just tell me my father made her do it. I was afraid to make things worst even when they were already pretty bad.
I remember being so upset at her. She’d inappropriately touch him in front of me. She’d make comments and remarks that sickened my small stomach. I was so hurt she’d do this to my father, he really did love her. He stayed he always stayed. I think deep down he knew what she was doing, he must have.
I remember her once again telling lies of pity, lies of extreme sickness to gain some sort of sick sympathy from this man, and we’ll just about everyone. I was again dragged out unwillingly to a movie theater with my mother and this man. I remember just on the drive there her intention was to get what she wanted out of him. As I sat in that dark theater in the row in front of them, I turned my head around to see her kissing this man. I was sickened, why is she doing this to my father. I wanted to say something but I knew better not to.
Cold months keep passing in this same sick twisted home. It was Christmas eve, as any child would be i was filled with joy. I couldn’t wait for morning to come. I still remember thinking to myself that night, my mom is sober. I was truly happy for that moment. I knew it was ok to fall asleep because fights seldom came with sobriety.
It was morning… so early the sun was just rising. I ran to my parents bedroom to wake up my mom. She wasn’t there, only my father laid peacefully still asleep in that bed. I remember looking in my sisters old bedroom and all around the house. I opened that old paddle locked back door and hurried down those flights of stairs to the first floor. The door was unlocked so I went in, but she wasn’t there. I knew she needed a fix. I knew one night of being a mom was to much. I remember opening those gifts all alone and my dad finally awoke. I remember him asking me where my mother was, I told him I didn’t know, she was gone when I woke up. His face was sad, he never liked to show emotion but at that moment our faces were sad together.
Time comes and goes so quickly. Days turn to nights, nights turn to days. I’m getting a little older. I’m almost 9 now, I use my time to play and be a kid. I try to stay outside all day to avoid the darkness. It often works, I feel better less alone, less empty, more like a kid.