Garage Heroes
Chapter Five: Mommy's little angel
I woke up just in time to get a few pieces of bacon that were left from my dad making breakfast for us. Dad had been improving on his cooking ever since my mom left. She left when I was 7, 9 years ago. I felt like I should miss her, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. How could I miss someone who fucking left me like that?
My mom and dad divorced when I was 7, leaving me with having to visit with my dad every other weekend. My mom would have me for the rest of the time that I wasn’t with my dad. But that didn’t last long, because my mom got into drugs. It started with weed, and then it went to harder shit like crack. I was so young; I never knew what my mom was doing. She would tell me that she needed to make a quick phone call, and she would be in her room for hours after that. I later assumed she was smoking pot. I had to fend for myself for hours. I lived off of cereal and toast because those were the only thing I could get for myself. I knew something was wrong soon when my mom started drinking. Drugs and alcohol. Good combination, mother. She would leave me with the 14 year old neighbor while she went out drinking. When she got home, my babysitter would leave immediately because she was scared of my mother. I was too, once I realized what she was doing. My mother began to bring her alcohol home, and she would get so drunk and just pass out on the couch. It was always the excuse “I’m gonna take a nap. Don’t wake mommy up”. I woke her up only a few times because I was so hungry and we were out of food, or food that I could make myself. She would hit me if I woke her up.
Once, I remember waking her up. She opened her eyes slowly and when she saw me sitting above her, she sat up quickly and brought her hand to my face even faster. I screamed and cried. It was the first time she ever hit me. It was so terrifying. I was young, and I didn’t know how to defend myself without getting in more trouble. It came to the point where I was getting hit for something as simple as forgetting a toy when I cleaned up after myself or not making my bed. I yelled back at her once, when I was 10. She hit me for missing a plate when I was doing dishes and I yelled at her for laying a hand on me. She did it again and screamed “I fucking OWN you!”
My dad eventually got custody of me, and that was the scariest thing. I don’t do well in court at 11 years old. I was told that my mom was getting better, and throughout the years, she would call to talk to me, but I would hang up or refuse to talk to her. I hated her. I wanted to forget everything about her, but that’s hard to do when it’s the woman who gave birth to you and hurt you for years.
I was happy with living with my dad, and he did everything he could to make up for my mother’s mistakes. I really appreciated it, even if I never showed it. I felt like I should thank him somehow, but I never knew exactly how.
I walked around to the living room until I saw my dad on the couch, “Hey, Dad?” He seemed surprised to see me there, or to hear me talking.
“Yeah? What’s up sweetheart?”
“Thank you for being awesome.” I smiled at him and walked away after I caught a glimpse of his smile.
My mom and dad divorced when I was 7, leaving me with having to visit with my dad every other weekend. My mom would have me for the rest of the time that I wasn’t with my dad. But that didn’t last long, because my mom got into drugs. It started with weed, and then it went to harder shit like crack. I was so young; I never knew what my mom was doing. She would tell me that she needed to make a quick phone call, and she would be in her room for hours after that. I later assumed she was smoking pot. I had to fend for myself for hours. I lived off of cereal and toast because those were the only thing I could get for myself. I knew something was wrong soon when my mom started drinking. Drugs and alcohol. Good combination, mother. She would leave me with the 14 year old neighbor while she went out drinking. When she got home, my babysitter would leave immediately because she was scared of my mother. I was too, once I realized what she was doing. My mother began to bring her alcohol home, and she would get so drunk and just pass out on the couch. It was always the excuse “I’m gonna take a nap. Don’t wake mommy up”. I woke her up only a few times because I was so hungry and we were out of food, or food that I could make myself. She would hit me if I woke her up.
Once, I remember waking her up. She opened her eyes slowly and when she saw me sitting above her, she sat up quickly and brought her hand to my face even faster. I screamed and cried. It was the first time she ever hit me. It was so terrifying. I was young, and I didn’t know how to defend myself without getting in more trouble. It came to the point where I was getting hit for something as simple as forgetting a toy when I cleaned up after myself or not making my bed. I yelled back at her once, when I was 10. She hit me for missing a plate when I was doing dishes and I yelled at her for laying a hand on me. She did it again and screamed “I fucking OWN you!”
My dad eventually got custody of me, and that was the scariest thing. I don’t do well in court at 11 years old. I was told that my mom was getting better, and throughout the years, she would call to talk to me, but I would hang up or refuse to talk to her. I hated her. I wanted to forget everything about her, but that’s hard to do when it’s the woman who gave birth to you and hurt you for years.
I was happy with living with my dad, and he did everything he could to make up for my mother’s mistakes. I really appreciated it, even if I never showed it. I felt like I should thank him somehow, but I never knew exactly how.
I walked around to the living room until I saw my dad on the couch, “Hey, Dad?” He seemed surprised to see me there, or to hear me talking.
“Yeah? What’s up sweetheart?”
“Thank you for being awesome.” I smiled at him and walked away after I caught a glimpse of his smile.
♠ ♠ ♠
I know this isn't much of a chapter, but y'know!