Dark Side (Completed)

No Place Like Home

"Mother," I called down the hallway as I exited my bedroom. "Are you home?"

After zapping back in, I had wasted no time getting out of that blasted suit. Now, taking the three steps it took to get to my kitchen, I found my mother slumped into her chair. She was unconscious, as per usual, and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey rested precariously in her hands. I gently tugged it away from her fingers, and for some reason I cannot explain, I brought it up to my lips and took a swig.

I cringed and gagged a little. Yep, definitely whiskey.

I quickly poured the foul liquid into the sink and filled it with water instead.

"God, Heather," I grumbled, "You can't afford to pay rent, but you can afford to get wasted."

Shaking my head, I poured the bottle of water onto her face.

She shouted and swung her hands around in confusion. After blinking back into reality, she leaned back in her chair and stared at me.

I handed her a glass of water and told her to drink. She tried bringing it to her lips, but only managed to spill it all down the front of her shirt.

"Oops," she said through a giggle. I poured her another glass and told her to try again.

After deeming her sober enough to carry on a conversation, I stopped feeding her glasses of water.

"Why?" I asked calmly.

"Why what, honey?" she gave me a small and curious smile.

"Why were you drinking whiskey," there was no amusement in my voice and her smile dropped. Her eyes lowered and it took her a while to speak.

"I-" she tried to find the right words, "Lost my job."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. With my eyes still closed I asked my next question, "When?"

"What do you mean?"

"When, mother?"

She became quiet again, "Three days ago."

I sighed, "You have to tell me these things mom. How short are we on paying rent?"

"I don't know. I think we still need a few hundred bucks."

I sighed again, "What do you plan on doing?" I ask, looking straight at her, "Hm? You're the adult in this situation. Not me. You're supposed to figure out a way out of this rat hole. Not spend the little money we have to get drunk!"

She twiddled with her fingers instead of looking at me.

"Mom."

She didn't respond.

"Mom," I tried again, a bit louder this time. Still no response, "Mom, we need to get out of this place. This isn't living. We need to-"

"I'm sorry, okay?" She cut me off rather forcefully, "Maybe things would be different if your father hadn't left. Maybe things would be different if I'd finished college. But they're not different. I'm sorry for making you live this way, but there's nothing I can really do about it."

I sat back and lowered my voice, "There's always something we can do."

"Yeah? Well I'm all ears," she said, defeated.

"Well first, you need to stop drinking. Second, you need to go out and get another job. A job that actually pays minimum wage like they're supposed to. I'll go get another job, too."

"You already have a job. I can't ask you to get another."

"Things will get better soon, I promise. I've been trying hard in school. Straight A's. That means I'll probably get myself enough scholarships and financial aid to get through college with a low amount of debt. Then I'll get a good job, and I'll help you out. Okay?"