Missing Alex
Mom
I went to the teen club outside of town. I didn’t go in, I just sat outside and cried my eyes out. My life sucked and I just wanted out. To run away and never come back. I pulled myself together and went home. It took me forever to get out of the car. But when I got inside, I heard arguing. GOD! All I needed was Alex.
To go upstairs and slam my door and, with tears pouring down my face, call her and explain everything. But she moved because her dad was put into the witness protection program. They got relocated and we were no longer allowed to speak to each other. I am the only one who knows about them being in the program, she told everyone else that her dad got a job out of state. I cried for a few days, got mad, and eventually started to get over it. But nothing worked. I couldn’t do anything to stop the hurt of losing the only friend I had. The only friend that ever completely knew who I was, who ever understood what I was going through.
I walked through the door with so much caution. Nothing ever was calm in my house. For the past few months my mom and step-dad have been on the rocks. So whenever I get home from work, I take my little sister Brittany upstairs. She’s only three and shouldn’t be hearing the word’s coming out of my parents mouths. My mom was also pregnant with our little brother. Since I KNOW the two of them are getting a divorce and my mom will win custody of us, I have to protect him to.
My mom has always been on a thin rope. Before she had me she was a druggie. Always getting into gang fights and selling drugs. She got a 6 months jail sentence and was released a “new woman”. She hooked up with my dad about one year later and it was love at first sight, or so she thought. When I was six they divorced. My father cheated on her and said he didn’t love either of us. After the divorce my mom and I moved into a 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom condo. It was nice, for the first three years.
My mom started coming home from work three or four hours late. Usually drunk out of her skull. I would always try to stay up until she got home, but usually I crashed on the couch. I made diner for myself, woke myself up, and pretty much lived on my own.
When I was twelve we still lived in the same old condo, same old bed, same old couch. But now my mom came home at three in the morning with someone. I tried to ignore this, but since I went back to sleeping in the bed she would wake me up and tell me to sleep on the couch. I would leave for school the next morning and she would be asleep, the man gone, and I couldn’t care less.
I didn’t like to see her like this so while she was at work I would hide all the alcohol. This made her quit drinking and she started coming home earlier. She still had a guy with her, but he usually left early. Then when the sex stopped, and she was coming home sober, I was pretty sure things were turning around. I’ve always been her guiding light, pulling her up when she’s down. They’re have been a couple of times when I saw her go down that path, but she pulled herself up.
When she hooked up with a new man, and got married, we said goodbye to the condo and moved into his nice two-story house. I finally had my own room again. I was now fourteen and in high school. But at home I was family. Brittany was born and life had made a completely U-turn.
Around six months ago Andrew, my step-dad, started to ignore us. He would leave on a “business trip” and come home without a word of anything. Not work, not the plane ride, not the people in wherever he went, not a single word of the trip. When he was home he still seemed like he loved us. I started getting scared for Brittany when he would come and mom would be rocking her to sleep and out of nowhere he would push the two of them out of the chair. So mom would leave me to baby-sit upstairs while the two of them “had a decent chat”. This happened so often that I would come home to yelling and shouting. Next thing you know I had to put Brit in a daycare. I would drop her off on the way to school, and pick her up on the way home.
I couldn’t take this anymore. I didn’t want to have to be a teenager, mom, and life guide. I only had one job to do: protect Brittany and me from my over barbaric stepfather. My mother was oblivious to whatever I did; Andy was insane so he didn’t care.
Now Brittany was three and I was seventeen, things weren’t getting better and I could tell from the argument that things would get ugly and fast. I packed up my stuff.
“Are you leaving?” Brittany questioned
“No.”
“Then why are you putting your stuff into a box?” She asked.
I didn’t want to be mean, so I told her the truth, kinda. “We’re going to grandma’s. just for a few days.”
“Oh Oh Oh! Can I come?” she squeled.
“Sure. Let’s go pack up your stuff.” I had to laugh. It felt good. I haven’t laughed in so long. I didn’t care if she laughed at something that I was using to run away to, it was still a thing.
To go upstairs and slam my door and, with tears pouring down my face, call her and explain everything. But she moved because her dad was put into the witness protection program. They got relocated and we were no longer allowed to speak to each other. I am the only one who knows about them being in the program, she told everyone else that her dad got a job out of state. I cried for a few days, got mad, and eventually started to get over it. But nothing worked. I couldn’t do anything to stop the hurt of losing the only friend I had. The only friend that ever completely knew who I was, who ever understood what I was going through.
I walked through the door with so much caution. Nothing ever was calm in my house. For the past few months my mom and step-dad have been on the rocks. So whenever I get home from work, I take my little sister Brittany upstairs. She’s only three and shouldn’t be hearing the word’s coming out of my parents mouths. My mom was also pregnant with our little brother. Since I KNOW the two of them are getting a divorce and my mom will win custody of us, I have to protect him to.
My mom has always been on a thin rope. Before she had me she was a druggie. Always getting into gang fights and selling drugs. She got a 6 months jail sentence and was released a “new woman”. She hooked up with my dad about one year later and it was love at first sight, or so she thought. When I was six they divorced. My father cheated on her and said he didn’t love either of us. After the divorce my mom and I moved into a 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom condo. It was nice, for the first three years.
My mom started coming home from work three or four hours late. Usually drunk out of her skull. I would always try to stay up until she got home, but usually I crashed on the couch. I made diner for myself, woke myself up, and pretty much lived on my own.
When I was twelve we still lived in the same old condo, same old bed, same old couch. But now my mom came home at three in the morning with someone. I tried to ignore this, but since I went back to sleeping in the bed she would wake me up and tell me to sleep on the couch. I would leave for school the next morning and she would be asleep, the man gone, and I couldn’t care less.
I didn’t like to see her like this so while she was at work I would hide all the alcohol. This made her quit drinking and she started coming home earlier. She still had a guy with her, but he usually left early. Then when the sex stopped, and she was coming home sober, I was pretty sure things were turning around. I’ve always been her guiding light, pulling her up when she’s down. They’re have been a couple of times when I saw her go down that path, but she pulled herself up.
When she hooked up with a new man, and got married, we said goodbye to the condo and moved into his nice two-story house. I finally had my own room again. I was now fourteen and in high school. But at home I was family. Brittany was born and life had made a completely U-turn.
Around six months ago Andrew, my step-dad, started to ignore us. He would leave on a “business trip” and come home without a word of anything. Not work, not the plane ride, not the people in wherever he went, not a single word of the trip. When he was home he still seemed like he loved us. I started getting scared for Brittany when he would come and mom would be rocking her to sleep and out of nowhere he would push the two of them out of the chair. So mom would leave me to baby-sit upstairs while the two of them “had a decent chat”. This happened so often that I would come home to yelling and shouting. Next thing you know I had to put Brit in a daycare. I would drop her off on the way to school, and pick her up on the way home.
I couldn’t take this anymore. I didn’t want to have to be a teenager, mom, and life guide. I only had one job to do: protect Brittany and me from my over barbaric stepfather. My mother was oblivious to whatever I did; Andy was insane so he didn’t care.
Now Brittany was three and I was seventeen, things weren’t getting better and I could tell from the argument that things would get ugly and fast. I packed up my stuff.
“Are you leaving?” Brittany questioned
“No.”
“Then why are you putting your stuff into a box?” She asked.
I didn’t want to be mean, so I told her the truth, kinda. “We’re going to grandma’s. just for a few days.”
“Oh Oh Oh! Can I come?” she squeled.
“Sure. Let’s go pack up your stuff.” I had to laugh. It felt good. I haven’t laughed in so long. I didn’t care if she laughed at something that I was using to run away to, it was still a thing.
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