We drove along in silence, Gran and I. The old car squeaked and moaned as it went over bumps. Gran really needed to get a new one, but I knew we couldn’t afford it. She spends most her and Papas money sending me to school. I go to a private school, well I skip a lot, but I’m enrolled in it none the less. I hate the uniforms, they are so un-cool, and just plain nasty.
We pulled up at home, and I shut the door. Gran slowly followed. I pounded up the cement steps, and swung open the door, the hinges barely hanging on as it slammed behind me. Papa was at the counter, sipping his evening coffee.
“I’m disappointed in you Violet,” he commented without even turning around.
“Pa, just stay outta it, iight?” I replied, not wanting to deal with his lectures right now. I had a pounding headache from all the drinking I did, I just wanted to go up to my room and sleep.
“You have a letter, it’s from your mother.” He said to me, his voice dropping to nothing more than a mumble. He picked up his mug, and went to the living room.
I marched up the stairs, my eyes grazing the old walls, and railing. I’ve gotten so many slivers from this railing, and fell down the stairs so many times when I was younger. This house holds many memories for me, I’d hate to leave, I’d hate to turn out like her.
The letter was sitting on my bed, in a manila envelope. I picked it up and went over to my computer desk, and sat in the chair, it squeaked under my weight as I swivelled around to put my feet up on the cabinet.
The letter began,
[i]I miss you dearly. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about my precious baby. I’m doing well, the new program is working really good, I’m sober now, and I have been for almost a month. I can’t wait until I have you in my arms again. It might be weird, but you are my baby, and I’m doing this for you.
We could get a nice apartment together, would you like that? You could go to a school near home, make new friends, and we could have a great life.
Your Gran called me, she says your not doing too good. I know you’re a smart kid, Grans told me loads of times, and I don’t doubt it, you woulda got that from your daddy. Please, don’t go down the same path as me, look where I am? I haven’t seen you in over 3 years, and I am stuck in this dump. Please, think about what your doing.
But don’t worry baby, this will all be sorted out, we will be fine once I’m outta here, and your in my arms again.
Love you always,
Load of crap, it’s all a load of crap, I thought to myself. My ‘mother’ sends me stupid letters all the time, she’s never once come for me. The last time I got taken away, she was too high to even wave goodbye, let alone hug or kiss me, or show any sign of recognition. I was just swept away, and even if she did get me back it would just happen again. I don’t want to see her, ever.
I ripped the letter apart, anger turned my face a deep crimson, and tears escaped from my eyes, causing my mascara to run. I threw the shredded lies into the garbage pail, and got out of my chair. I undressed, taking off my dirty pants and blood-stained shirt. I threw them into the corner, and took the towel off of the door handle, and padded along the cold floors to the bathroom. The warm shower felt nice against my stiff body, I scrubbed my hair, and lathered my face. I was in the shower until the water ran cold, damn old pipes. I turned the shower off and stepped out, my wet body shivering from the cold air.
After I was dried off, and my hair was up and not soaking wet I went to my drawer and pulled out a goodnite. I stepped into it, and slipped it over my thighs, being careful to avoid any bruises that were there. I threw on a nightgown and slipped into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin.
I wonder what would happen if the crew found out I still wet the bed, I thought to myself. I would be sure to get my ass beat. Not exactly something someone like me does, it’s only a matter of time, though, that they find out. I’ve always been lucky, and the one time I did wet when I slept out, I blamed it on the guy next to me, and everyone believed me.
I have to help myself, my mother is right, whether I want to admit it or not… I’m going down the wrong path, but will I ever be able to change myself?