The Decline of Kaitlynn Lewinsky

Chapter 2

Slowly, I opened my eyes to see... concrete? I lifted myself off the ground and looked around.

"Oh yeah..." I sighed, remembering the night before.

Crickets sounded in the background as the smell of freshly cut grass filled my nose. I stood up to stretch and noticed a note sitting on the ground next to where I slept. I picked it up and it read:

"Hey, Kaitlynn, thanks a bunch for being there with me last night. Let's do it again sometime!" It was signed, "Audrey," followed by a couple hearts.

"Romantic..." I scoffed.

The walk back home was less than pleasant. My head was pounding and my arms were scraped up from sleeping on the stone.

I walk through the door of my apartment, and sure enough my mother was on the couch. Hoping she was asleep, I tried my best to creep silently past her to the kitchen to get some food.

"Where were you last night? Whoring around again?" My mother said, eyes half open.

I rolled my eyes and replied, "No, I was with a couple friends."

"Smokin' again?"

"No, we were just hanging out."

"Don't try to be slick, Kait," She smoked a bit of her cigarette and continued, "I know you betta' than you know you."

"Yeah, sure," I said.

"You're just like ya' fatha'. Good for nothin' and you abandoned ya' poor old motha'."

"I didn't abandon you. I was just not home last night. I'm obviously back now."

"Yeah, for now. Until you turn out just like him. It's inevitable." She took a swig from her bottle.

"Yeah, okay." I sighed. I was already done with this conversation, but unfortunately she had more to say.

"You know, ya' fatha' used to do hard crack. And that's exactly where weed is gonna get ya'."

And look where alcohol got you.

"I'm not kiddin' suga'. Ya' gonna end up arrested someday, or in a ditch."

I ignored her and went into the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator, not expecting much, but hoping for something.

"Nothing," I sighed.

From the other room, I heard my mother yell, "Ya' gonna end up a whore. Just... like... ya' fatha'."

Ignoring her, I quickly walked up to my room, slamming the door.

"Do you pay the bills in this house?" She yelled from the couch.

Everyday seemed like a constant battle around here. I walk in from work or from a night out, and I get called a whore and yelled at. I also get compared to my father a lot. If you thought this was only a one time thing, you would be sadly mistaken. My mother was the biggest hypocrite I knew. She spent a good portion of her life high off something. At this point, it wasn't to help her cope with anything; it's not to help her get over pain. She's strictly an addict at this point. Using all these drugs and alcohol to escape... something. It wasn't always like this, though. When she and dad got together, she stopped abusing drugs. When dad was still around, we were a happy family. They both worked to pay the bills, and whenever they got home, they'd hang out with me and make sure I was happy. Then he left. He left us for someone from Craigslist. Some blonde bimbo that went by the name "Tequila Tootsie."That's when my mother relapsed.

In turn, this lead me to spiral down a depressive hole full of anxiety and only slightly less serious drugs than my mother was using. I hardly smiled anymore. When I did, it was usually because my mother wasn't around.