I can't say everything is getting better but I can say it's not worsening. I look at my mother passed out on the couch. A few bottles of beer on the coffee table. I sigh, walk to the door, put on my shoes and head off to school.
My mother is such a terrible alcoholic. It was a lot worse when I was a child. She would leave me at home alone and she would go out with friends partying and she would come back drunk as hell, she would start yelling at me and she even beat me a few times. She would grab a belt and start whipping me with it. I would cry and cry and she would tell me to, "shut the hell up" and that only made it worse and I would keep crying. She slapped me and I would run to the attic. Lock myself in there and I would cry until I fell asleep. I would wake up, aching because of the bruises and cuts. I would cover it all up with long sleeved shirts and hoodies but people could still see the bruises on my face. I told people at school that it was from playing in the attic and they would leave me alone after that. I would concentrate on work because I didn't want to remember what my mother would do. As I grew older, I would start yelling back and it only made things worse, she would grab the belt again and hit me but one day, I grabbed the belt from her and whipped her and yelled. I yelled, "How does it feel? It hurts doesn't it? That's what your doing to me!" and she never hit me again. She would call me names but never hit me. My safe spot would be the attic. It was the only place that I felt at peace.
At school, I talked with my only friend, Olivia Wascht. We would talk about a lot of thing. She was the only person to break through my shell. The barrier I put up to ignore the world. I still have that barrier but she is a special friend to me. She understands me because she comes from the same kind of family. Though she's lucky to have both parents.
I only have my mother. My parents split at birth. I asked my mother if I had a sibling and she answered, "No. Don't you ever ask again." and I never did. I always had a connection with something. Like there was someone out there that was part of me. I still wonder that.
Olivia was telling me about how well her parents are getting along these days. She's saying that they're almost never fighting. They actually plan on having another baby. Though I wonder why? They already have 5 kids. I always wanted to have a sister though. Someone who can understand me.