Status: Updated when there is something to be updated on this.
Collection of Words
Don't Care.
The screeching, screaming and yelling filled the otherwise quiet house making me wince internally. There was no way I was going to do it for everyone to see, not with her in front of me yelling like that. She did deserve to see it as far as I was concerned.
So instead I just started at her, face unreadable other than my eyes which were narrowed in a deathly glare. I saw her flinching away from me like if she was close enough, my glare would burn her, too bad it didn’t.
Over her shoulder was my Dad, he looked at me with sad, sorrow eyes that has close to giving up hope. I had already given up hope on my...mother. She has lost it, seriously. Instead of going to the doctors like she should have had, she goes out and gets high.
Just a few years ago she was never like this; she was the sweetest lady in the street, maybe even in the town. That lady was my Mum, the person I loved. This wasn’t, she was someone else inside of her body. She was mean, hateful – mostly towards me- and she loved braking people down to nothing; like my Dad. I wish I could do something but at the moment I knew I couldn’t. Well at least not a solid fix to this, maybe one that could last a day.
Still yelling she walked into my face saying that I was the one that took her drugs and used them. Which wasn’t the case, I would never go near the horrible shit. She was so messed up to realise that the reason why she had none; was because she used the rest of what she had last night. Stupid woman.
Shaking my head I glared at her harder and she stopped for a moment to swallow in fear. I took this as my chance. I walked around her letting my shoulder hit hers roughly and walked right to my Dad. He looked at me with apologetic eyes.
Saying nothing I held my hand out for him to take. He showed me a small smile and took my hand letting me lead him out of the house. Times like this I felt like his older brother, not his son. But either way I was glad I could help him. I know he is hurting as much as I was.
Sighing I pulled him down the street as she started yelling at us again. But I don’t care for people like her anymore; it’s my Dad who really counted and we were there for each other.
So instead I just started at her, face unreadable other than my eyes which were narrowed in a deathly glare. I saw her flinching away from me like if she was close enough, my glare would burn her, too bad it didn’t.
Over her shoulder was my Dad, he looked at me with sad, sorrow eyes that has close to giving up hope. I had already given up hope on my...mother. She has lost it, seriously. Instead of going to the doctors like she should have had, she goes out and gets high.
Just a few years ago she was never like this; she was the sweetest lady in the street, maybe even in the town. That lady was my Mum, the person I loved. This wasn’t, she was someone else inside of her body. She was mean, hateful – mostly towards me- and she loved braking people down to nothing; like my Dad. I wish I could do something but at the moment I knew I couldn’t. Well at least not a solid fix to this, maybe one that could last a day.
Still yelling she walked into my face saying that I was the one that took her drugs and used them. Which wasn’t the case, I would never go near the horrible shit. She was so messed up to realise that the reason why she had none; was because she used the rest of what she had last night. Stupid woman.
Shaking my head I glared at her harder and she stopped for a moment to swallow in fear. I took this as my chance. I walked around her letting my shoulder hit hers roughly and walked right to my Dad. He looked at me with apologetic eyes.
Saying nothing I held my hand out for him to take. He showed me a small smile and took my hand letting me lead him out of the house. Times like this I felt like his older brother, not his son. But either way I was glad I could help him. I know he is hurting as much as I was.
Sighing I pulled him down the street as she started yelling at us again. But I don’t care for people like her anymore; it’s my Dad who really counted and we were there for each other.