Born and Broken Every Single Time.

"I'm home," I yelled as I arrived back at my house, but go not response. I knew my dad was away for a few days on work but was pretty perplexed as to where my mother was. I took a quick scour of the house to discover she was definitely out so took the opportunity to sprawl out on the sofa in front of the television. It struck me as odd that come nine she was still gone with not so much as a word to let me know, but I could deal with that.

As the evening drew on I gradually became more worried. When eleven o'clock came and went I tried texting her but got no reply, and all my calls to her phone just rang out. I paced the living room anxiously as I wondered what to do. Just after eleven thirty I heard the door slam open and ran to the hall to see if she was okay, but she was far from okay.

She stumbled through the door, the stench of alcohol apparent immediately. She slammed the door shut behind her before dumping her bag clumsily beside her shoes that were hastily kicked off.

"Where have you been?" I questioned cautiously. I hated her like this, I hated her drinking but still she did it. There was always an argument when she'd had even a sip of alcohol, I sensed tonight would be no different.

"Fuck off," she muttered, having squinted her eyes to work out it was me who'd questioned her. She stumbled up the hall, pushing her way past me and walking into the kitchen, swinging the drinks cabinet open.

"No," I pressed as I pulled her back. "You've had too much already."

"Get off of me!" she yelled, pushing me back so I slammed into the nearest wall. I went over and pulled her back again as she headed to get another drink out, feeling myself being drunkenly shoved again. "Don't touch me, I hate you!" she sneered as she picked up a glass vase that sat at the corner of the counter, waving it threateningly at me.

"Oh come on," I laughed feebly. "Look at yourself! You're a waster."

"I'd rather be like me," she slurred. "Than like you, look at you!" She smirked at me as she threw the vase clumsily at me, watching it smash off the corner of the counter and scatter around us all.

"You're insane, you're a fucking alcoholic," I snapped at her as she started giggling randomly.

"I'm not you little brat," she smirked as she walked over to me, stepping on the broken glass and not seeming to have noticed the blood gently trailing her footsteps. "I hate you," she spat as she locked her fingers violently in my hair, tugging at me and dragging me after her.

She dragged me up the stairs, shoving me into my own room before aiming to go back down stairs and retrieve another beverage. I ran back out of my room, tugging on her arm to be met with the back of her hand slamming across my face. She shoved me back, screaming in frustration as she lashed out at me, hitting me as hard as she could anywhere she could manage.

"Don't," I muttered as I tried to shove her off me. I could never bear to see her like this, she was after all my mother and it was horrible. I felt tears gently well up in my eyes as I tried to fend her off, sheer upset at what drink could turn her into. She didn't care - it only fuelled her cruelty.

"Aw little Franks a bit upset at realising how much his parents hate him," she sneered as her fist drunkenly collided with my jaw. "Mummy hates him, and although Frank claims daddy likes him, where is he Frank? He's as far away from you as he can get."

"Fuck off!" I yelled as I shoved her off me again. I turned my back to her to look for the house phone which should have been around here somewhere to feel her hands grab my hair roughly again, causing me to shout in a mix of aggravation and pain. Before I knew what was happening I'd swung around and slapped her. She loosened her grip on me, her eyes widening with shock.

"You little-"

"Don't you dare!" I snapped as I stepped back from her. "I always said you'd know about it if I hit you." I ran into my room, finding my phone and texted Mikey asking him to phone me. I felt the tears well in my eyes as I typed the message, shocked at what had just happened. I was just like them, just like her and it sickened me. As much as I'd like to say it was 'them', it was her. My dad had been a one off, and he'd tried so hard to make it up to me even when he was angry. Her? She did it so often it was second nature to me. But tonight I couldn't take it anymore.

I felt myself physically shaking as I sent the text, looking up through teary eyes as I heard my door swing open. She looked in briefly just to look at me in disgust before heading to her room. I pulled my mobile back out my pocket to find a reply from Mikey saying he couldn't phone. I was half relieved to read that. God only knows what I'd be like on the phone just now. I'd break down.

I heard the house phone ringing and ran to answer it on the off chance it was actually Mikey contradicting his text.

"Hello?" I sniffed.

"Frank? What the hell is going on there? Your mum just text me," my dads voice called down the phone.

"Sh-she's come home wasted," I muttered, swinging round in fear as she appeared at her door, angry that I had answered the phone before her. As she drew closer I ran into my room, leaning against the door as I basically broke down to my dad. We hadn't been so close since the incident that night, but I needed him now.

"Frank, listen to me-"

"I can't hear you properly," I sobbed. "She's kicking at my door, she's like screaming at me."

"Frank," he shouted. "Just listen to me, block your door with the bed, okay? I can hear how out of it she is from your end, she won't be able to get it out the way. I'm coming home, and I'll sort this first thing in the morning okay?"

"O-okay," I whimpered as he hung up the phone. I moved my bed as quickly as I could, barricading the door from my mum as she voiced her hatred of me continuously. I lay down on my bed, switching my iPod on and praying that the sounds of the Smashing Pumpkins could drown her out.

I lay there as Mikey kept texting me to check I was okay, knowing she'd done this before and having talked it through me on previous occasions until it cooled. It kind of calmed me down slightly to have my music play and Mikey to talk things through with, although in my mind I kept repeating myself with my complaints. I finally calmed enough until I drifted off to sleep, the occasional twinge of pain overcoming me from one of the hits I'd been struck with earlier. It saddened me to say the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep was that I was just like them. I'd finally caved into their ways.

I'd finally hit back, and it sickened me.