Crazy attracts Crazy

Prologue

My breath caught as I walked up those flights of stairs. I'm so out of shape. My thick thighs and not so thin body, felt sore after walking about three flights of stairs. True, even a fit girl who could run a mile in 5 minutes, just might be out of breath too. However, I would be considered pathetic because of my weight and build. I knew I was fat, they didn't need me to tell me.
When I reached the fourth floor, I let out a huff of air and leaned down, my arms against my knees, as I tried to catch my breath. I really was pathetic.
I looked up at the metal door, taking in any new graffiti there might of been, besides the normal gang signs. There was only one new one and it was written in sharpie, rather than spray paint.

"Batman Will Die"

I snorted out my laugh, "yeah right," I whispered softly to myself. I gained my breath again, my hand outstretched to grab the cold metal handle. The door was heavy, like it always was, and I pulled it open with little strength. I walked through the door way, it revealing a long, barely visible, hallway. The air smelled like cat piss and I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Mrs. McKinney must've let her cat out again.

I sighed and walked down the hall to the very end of it. I look at the door that led to my home and almost mentally hit myself when I saw the door ajar. It wasn't surprising that the door to my black mold, drug and alcohol infested home would be left open. It's not like we had anything that they wanted or needed. It was just a druggie home. I push open the door, the room only lit up by the fuzzy tv. I hated the buzzing sound it filled up my ears with. I slowly walk over to turn it off but stop when I see a figure laying on the floor. My breath caught but I didn't have the time to feel panic when the figure rolled over onto her back and let out a content groan.

Mom.

Her dark blonde curls, which had been much fuller and healthier, stuck to her face from how much she was sweating, even though, it was only 70 degrees in our house. It always was. I stared at her for a while before heading towards my closet to turn on my light. Did I say closet? Oh, I meant bedroom. I turned on the light and looked at where I only spent my nights in. It had a small blanket, some folded clothes, clothes I had stolen weeks ago and a few dirty shoes. Oh, and how could I forget my backpack full of pencils, knives, a gun, papers, and notebooks. It wasn't much but I was used to worse, the same shirt every day. My eyes went to my mother again, but wander to the coffee table in front of the buzzing tv. A crack pipe laid there as well as a bong, a baggie that had white stuff in it and a few Xanax. Crack, coke, weed, and Xanax?

Wow, mom. You're the real mvp.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I stared at her. "You are never a day sober anymore," I told her, knowing she couldn't hear me. "Did you forget you still have to take care of me? Aren't I as important as the drugs? Answer me, mom!" And even knowing she can't hear me, I still scream at her. Tears free fall and I walk over to the coffee table and grab the crack pipe in my hands. I shook and looked at my mother with anger. I raise my hand up and smash the crack pipe on the table, my fingers still wrapped around it. Glass shards embed themselves into my hand and I wince slightly, blood already starting to drip past my fingers.

I am so done with the drugs. I'm so done with her.

My next choices shouldn't have been made out of anger though, I wish I would've known that sooner. It was only later that night that my life would change forever.

It was the idea to leave that started it.

I grabbed my back pack, putting my blanket in it and the few clothes I had. I searched our apartment for the money I knew she had. Heading for the kitchen, I felt on top of the fridge and found an odd looking dark glass bottle and I dropped it on the floor and watched it smash open. Many one hundred dollar bills laid there. I frowned and picked it up, counting the money. She had over $1,000 hiding in there. I was astonished. My breath caught and I looked at her, "This whole time we could've had food. This whole time I could've gotten a real bed. You got all this money plus the money that grandpa gave us and you are really spending it on drugs?!" I knew she couldn't hear me, but I needed to say it, whether she was conscious or not. Sober or not.