Pills

Prologue

I've never had that great of a childhood.

At the young age of 5 my father died in a terrible work accident. Leaving me and my mother alone. I don't actually remember him dying, but I do remember my mother crying a lot.

Being a single mother to a child; even if it was one, must've been hard. My mother worked three jobs and was rarely home. I had to learn how to cook on my own very quickly. I sold some food I made in homemade stands to make some money to buy pizza when I had nothing to cook.

It was the same thing everyday. Wake up, my moms gone, by the time I'm about to fall asleep at 11:00 I hear my mom come home and when I wake up again she's gone.

I was sent to a a small school a mile away where i was able to learn, but I didn't like all the people. The teachers didn't seem to care for us kids and the kids didn't care about me. I was always glad to get back home. Even if it sounded and seemed that bad, I'm sure my mother loved me, she was just so busy and had no time to talk to me or hug me or make us a meal or watch a movie together.

I remember the day the police came to my door when I was 11. I was watching tv in the living room alone, as I always do when I come back from school when I heard the bell ring. I peeked out the window to make sure it was no one suspicious. Even when I was young I knew the police were not a good sign.

There were two officers and the one who had rang realized who answered the door and gave me a sad look.
I gulped nervously. Then the second officer explained to me what happened.

"Your mother... I'm sorry but there was an accident on her way to work. She's in the hospital."

Maybe that wasn't the right way to break it to a child. But all I could think was was that mother was hurt.

I sat next to her in the ER when she took her final breath that night. The front of her face was so horribly damaged they had to bandage it all up not allowing her to look or talk to me before she passed.

Seeing my mother being wheeled away by the nurses made something in me snap. Whatever mental stability I held on to over the years of neglect and sadness has left. I looked down at my feet as a couple tears rolled down my cheeks and landed on my pink shoes.

But soon the tears ended along with my happiness.

I was forced to live with my grandmother who lived far from my old home. She was never a big fan of kids but still fed me and gave me a room far from her and allowed me to go to a new school.

A week after my mother's death and visiting a child therapist, the therapist realized I was slowly building up a split personality where two to four times a month I'd have "psychotic episodes" where I get extremely violent and angered easily and have lashed out and hit people quite a few times during the five minute long episodes.

The doctor gave me some medication I was supposed to take every other day to keep the "psychotic episodes" from having a very low chance of arriving to not at all.

It was the same thing everyday. Only this time I had to take the pills. It was annoying, but it slowly became normal and I never forgot to take them.

Although the psychotic episodes rarely arrive, I still felt so lost and alone in the world. Hiding in the bathroom after my grandmother went to bed and covering my wrists with pretty red lines helped distract me from my misery.

School was still terrible and I tried my best to avoid anyone and to interact with anyone.

That is until I met her.

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Haha yeet first chapter B) I didn't want to draw out her backstory so hopefully my motivation will last long enough to finish her whole backstory.

Please comment and vote! I love seeing people commenting on my stories and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is appreciated!