sobriety

un

Soren

What does it mean to truly be alone? Does it mean that everyone avoids you for group projects? Does it mean that when you pass a test with high marks, no one is there to celebrate with you? Does it mean that no one would understand what you hide beneath those smiles? If so, then yes. I am alone.

Today was just one of those days. The autumn leaves outside were damp from the rain, so I couldn't step on them and feel the crunch on the soles of my shoes. I decided to skip lunch today, and head to the library. After the bell rang, I closed my book and put it back. Unfortunately, it was time for the 5th period. I enter the busy hallway, with class.

I walk head down in the hallway, my chestnut strands of hair thinking every negative thought to keep my head where it belongs. Facing the floor.

After my last class, I took the bus home, as usual, sitting in the middle section of the bus, headphones blasting in my ear. I was playing classical music, it was the music my mom always listened to when she was alive.

I walked a bit before I reached our 4-story townhouse. All built of brick, by my grandpa. He created my bedroom, and I helped put in the insulation. I looked up at the soaring house and asked myself, 'What is going to change today?'

I keyed the lock to the precious, mahogany wood and pushed the door. I saw a sight I never thought I would for the past ten years. A sight that haunted me forever.

It was my father, my drunken father lying on the couch, an alcoholic beverage in hand facing the couch with the t.v. on. He was surrounded by bottles of beer, vodka, and his personal favorite, whiskey.

I couldn't believe it. He was drinking again. Ten years sober and he ultimately gave up. Ten years of promises and rehab down the drain. Wasted tears and time are what it is. I smelt the horrid juniper berry as the cold shivers of memories went down my spine.

I must have pressed on the louder wood plank because he turned his head to speak.
   
"Oh! It's you! Salutations Sooby," He slurred. His eyes rolled back a bit as he spoke and weakly waved his hand at me. He always called me that when he was drunk.

I looked around the room to see if there was any evidence to show me why he drank again. I thought he was over her death, done weeping and moping. Done abusing the people he loves and moved on. 

I turned my head to the left and felt a familiar hand on my shoulder.

"When I speak to you Soren, I expect you to answer me." He harshly whispers to my ear. I froze in shock, knowing what was coming. He liked to whisper, knowing damn well how much it tickled my soul.

His harsh whispers are always followed by him knocking me to my knees, blood on the floor which I have to clean up, along with the alcohol, and my precious tears.

I squeezed my eyes shut and twisted my thumb in the palms of my hands, shaking.

He cackled and dropped the glass beer bottle on the floor. I flinched as I watched the liquid soak into the wood planks.

"Oops," He said, as he covered one hand with his mouth. I was still standing motionless, afraid to bend down and pick up the shattered glass.

'Why me?' I thought. It seems as though I will never get an answer. Not until someone finds out about me, about us.