Here's the Update.
ILY.
I was home. Drinking my miserable life away. It wasn't ideal. It wasn't me but right now, I needed it to forget.
To forget my mother's glazed over eyes that stared at me, chilling me to the core.
To forget the syringes in her hand and the ones fallen all around her.
To forget how cold the room felt and the chills I had gotten.
To forget the foam gathered around my mom's mouth.
To forget my mom was dead because she overdosed on drugs my stepfather gave her.
I dropped the bottle in my hand and cried. I wasn't forgetting any of it. The memories have found a deep rooted space in my head to stay. It wasn't leaving. I cried till I vomited and then I drank some more. I wanted to die. At some point, I looked at the ceiling in my house and screamed,
"Why me?! Why do you hate me so much?! WHY?!?!"
I don't know who I was screaming at. I don't know who I was talking to. All I knew is that the universe was against me. God hated me for letting me suffer this way.
First my father.
Now my mother.
The cops couldn't find my scumbag stepfather and I was alone. Alone drowning.
My head drifted back to the memory again and I clutched my head wanting it to stop. Wanting everything to stop.
He bent down to grab me again but I noticed a half full beer bottle beside me. Using my adrenaline fuel, I grabbed the bottle and hit it against his face with all the strength I had. He collapsed onto the floor and I took that as my moment to run. I was covered in blood, sweat and alcohol. I ran into my mother's room and locked the door in fear that he'll cell back. My heart was beating and it was beating hard.
I turned around to face my mom on the bed but the words died on my tongue.
I screamed.
My mother was on the bed her eyes wide open as if staring into my soul. Her mouth was covered in foam. Her hand held a syringe which she no doubt used to inject herself. There were bags with multiple powder in them littered all around her.
Even with my heart thudding loudly in my ears. My legs managed to move. I was terrified, "mom?"
No response.
I moved closer to the bed, "Mommy?" I was desperate to hear something from her mouth. I was desperate to hear her breath. Against my better judgement, I looked down at her, tear streaming down my face and begging God that I hoped what I suspected wasn't true. I placed my hand against her cheek and jumped back with so much force at the chills I felt.
My mother was cold, clammy and stiff. My heart sank when I realized that she didn't die today. It was probably two to three days ago. Which meant that my stepfather knew all along.
She was dead.
My mommy was dead.
With the tears streaming down my chest and the anxiety choking me, I ran downstairs to check for my stepfather and kill him with my bare hand but he was gone. Leaving only a pool of blood from where I hit him in the head.
I crumbled to my knees and cried. After a while, I heard sirens approaching the house and I fled from the backdoor in fear.
.
.
.
A week passed by and I was drowning myself in alcohol. I wasn't even 18 yet but I could not care less, honestly. I have taken enough pills for an overdose but I just wasn't dying. Something this simple and I was bad at it too.
My boss fired me through text and my only friend at the diner, Karen called me multiple times. But I didn't have the heart and mind to answer, I couldn't.
I was too unstable right now. I had the urge to pee so I stumbled into the bathroom to ease myself but i caught my reflection on the bathroom mirror and gasped at what I saw. My eyes were red and poofy, my cheeks were being sucked in and I had a nasty bruise forming where Kevin hit my eye. I had worried, tired lines on my forehead like some sick 60 year old woman and not a 17 year old girl.
I looked completely miserable.
I knew what I had to do now. It was time to leave. No one cared about me. No one will notice I was gone.
Ugh,
Poor Jenny's never gonna get a break, is she?