ONE OF THE GIRLS ★ fezco.

001

A TRAGIC THIRTEENTH BIRTHDAY

THE FIRST TIME NADIA MOORE HAD SMOKED MARIJUANA SHE WAS THIRTEEN. It had been the night time of her first birthday as a teenager and her dad had come into her room to give her a small smell-proof bag with enough ground up weed for two pure joints.

Now, Nadia was confused, she knew her dad dabbled in a lot of different kinds of drugs and he had often said to her he didn't "want her to end up like him", yet here he was contradicting himself by supplying her with free drugs?

Soon enough though, the young girl quickly became grateful for the small gift, because as soon as her mother stepped foot through the door of their shitty apartment complex, the screaming matches began.

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Olivia Moore to walk in and begin screaming at her husband, "you never appreciate me!", "i wish i never met you!", "I deserve a better fucking life than this!", blah, blah.

And so that night, as she sat in the doorway of her room, down the hallway about 7 feet away from her parents, Nadia Moore rolled herself a joint (as she had seen her father do many times before) and began to smoke it.

Soon enough, the girl adored the feeling of being high.

She loved the way the world became slightly quieter, the way she only heard her mother's venomous words if she really focused on them, the way her body began to feel free, like she was no longer trapped under her skin and she could feel every slight movement of her muscles.

Nadia Moore cherished the peace.

She continued smoking the rest of her 'gift' for the rest of the night, blocking out the sounds of dishes smashing and doors slamming as she eventually found herself crawling under her duvet.

the thirteen year old had a dreamless sleep that night, no rainbows or sheep, no happy family, no silly scenarios.

Her sleep was as silent as her head was.

When Nadia woke up though, her mother was gone. No trace of Olivia Moore around the house excluding the mess of ceramic bowl shards piled on the floor from her rowing session with Nadia's father the night prior.

Nadia never saw her mother again.

She never heard her mother's voice, never saw her lingering in her doorway at night, and never saw her angrily slamming cupboard doors as she paced the kitchen.

Olivia Moore seemed to no longer exist in the life of Nadia and Johnathon.

And Nadia would often wonder if life would have been better had she never turned thirteen years old.