Only When The Water Flows.

Only when the water flows. Intro.

~Picture is of the mother (Molly) on her wedding day~

Only when the water flows. ~ Intro~

How can such a nice man become so evil? Oh wait, don't answer that, I already know.

My mother has been gone for 2 years now; she was such a wonderful woman. In all the memories I have of her, not one is she not laughing or smiling, with her big red lips, long blonde hair waving around her neck. Everywhere she went, she would leave a positive spirit behind.

I still remember her wedding day, almost 4 years ago. I was 14. I loved my deep purple strapless bridesmaid dress. My younger sister, Gemma wore the almost the exact same dress but she had triangular straps.

It was one of the happiest days of her life. Well I guess you could expect that, it was her first wedding. Gemma and I have the same dad, but our parents never got married. So when she finally got the chance to with Michael, she was so ecstatic. She looked so beautiful and happy. She wore a vintage, white lace dress, but her smile was more beautiful than any dress could ever be. Michael looked just as happy and as handsome with his classic black and white tux. Michael hasn't had the best life ether. He had problems with drinking and drugs in the past. He never had a wedding either but he had been married before. I don't know the complete story, but I remember something about......drugs, alcohol, strippers, Las Vegas, gold diggers. Oh well, something along those lines.

So when he met my mother it was basically love at first sight, they were both going through huge rough patches. They made each other's worlds complete. The looks in both of their eyes said it all.

In every household there is a number one rule, and others after, rules like, "Eat your dinner or no dessert", "No T.V after 8:30", "No running indoors", or, "Finish all your homework or no T.V", etc... But in our house we had rules like that, but we had a few top rules. Our number one rule was, "Never let any man abuse you", our second rule was "Never be afraid of putting yourself or the ones you love, first", and our third rule was "Fight for what you believe in". I was only living with my mum and Gemma when mum created these rules and I was only like 6 or 7, so at the time I thought these rules were ridiculous because number one, boys had cooties and I only lived with girls. And number two was confusing because everyone told us to share and number three was confusing because we were taught to never fight.

My father was never around when I was growing up we was always working or at the pub. I saw him about 15 minutes EVERY day, about 5 minutes in the morning and 10 minutes at night when he came home, then we all would have to go to bed. I didn't really mind though because my mother used to get slightly abused by my father when I was younger. She would just brush it off. But one day when I was 12, I asked her why she didn't follow the rules and get help. But she just said "It's just too late for me", still with a smile on her face she leaned over and slowly grabbed my hand and then entwined our fingers, leaned in and whispered "But, my beautiful daughter, it will never be too late for you". I remember her saying that like it happened yesterday. I remember it so well because I was old enough to know what he was doing to her. I knew that she should have broken down in tears and gotten help.

But all she did was smile.

She never had sadness in her eyes. But that day, I saw it. It was like she was crying without tears; I had to look deep into her eyes to find the sadness, because she hid it so well.

Every day I watched those beautiful eyes become sadder and pained. I had to tell someone. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, not even my dad. He was my dad, no matter what, I should love him. But I had to. I went to the school counsellor and she took everything from there. She talked to my mum, got a lawyer and testified in court agenised him. I was actually surprised mum had agreed and admitted everything, I thought she was going to cover for him. I guess she didn’t want to be with him anymore. He was sent to jail for 2 years and had a restraining order against Gemma and I for 5 years and mum for 8.

Of course word had gotten around in our ever small town and everyone thought Gemma and I were freaks. The stares, the whispers and the name calling. We handled it pretty well and tried not to let them get to us. But the people started to say that it was our fault, it was our fault because he didn’t love us so he blamed mum for our imperfections and that he would rather live in jail for the rest his life, than live with freaks like us. I know it kind of sounds ridiculous. But after you hear the same sort of thing about ten times a day, you start to believe it. The bulling never stopped. It wasn’t our fault dad was a dickhead. 

And now. The bullying continues, but they have all gone. My fathers gone. My mother has gone. Gemma and I don't even know how she died, nobody would tell us. And I certainly didn't know why she died. I don't know about you, but I strongly believe in karma. Mum never did anything wrong, that I know of. She was so optimistic about life, she had no enemies, so healthy, always full of energy.

She could make anyone's life bright.

Not a lot of people know how she died, most of my family don't. But for some reason my grandparents, some uncles and aunties, think that Michael had something to do with it. I don't see how they can still think that. Michael loved her. He would never hurt a fly. He took very good care of Gemma and I.

So without her he felt like nothing. He was on the verge of suicide. But then his "Old friends" got in contact with him. He started to drink and do drugs, to fill the emptiness inside. But it wasn't just a beer here and there every night, or a dash of cocaine on a lovely Friday night, oh no it's much worse.

You cannot see him without a beer, literally when he was asleep, he would have one next to him on the night stand, or when he was in the shower or in the toilet he would either have one with him or sit it on the sink. Well at least he doesn't drink a drive, so well he doesn't drive at all. And all the drugs make him angry, he is constantly angry. With all the booze and the pot he is on the verge of death. He could have Liver cancer, blood cancer, the list is endless. He is not himself, he is way beyond repair, he is just unnatural, and he has the darkest spirit of anyone I have ever met.