![]() Which looked like it wasn’t going to be anytime soon. And I wasn’t going anywhere until she was okay. The important thing was that I was doing my best to cope with being home, and if my Mom needed anything, I was there for her. And my Dad wouldn’t have said shit because it would’ve just further upset her. Plus, she was too drunk on her own grief to pay attention to me. So I knew I was free to start hitting the bottle. My Mom was so grateful that someone came to check on me that she didn’t even make a crack about how much they smelled like cigarettes. She concealed the bottle of Smirnoff in a bag that contained “a few books and a sweatshirt she’d borrowed.” Plus, it turned out sneaking shots of gifted vodka gave me the same numbness I was after anyway.Īnnie and her boyfriend, Rob, brought it for me when they came over to pay their respects. Which meant that stuffing my face and disappearing to throw up for two hours wasn’t an option. ![]() I couldn’t stop thinking I’d be better off anywhere else.įortunately, a lot of visitors kept coming to pay their condolences. So no matter what I did, I couldn’t get comfortable there. But to me it was a house of pain, the birthplace of the darkest feelings I had ever experienced. To anyone else it would seem like a regular suburban family home. It never occurred to me before that an environment could make you sick, but I swear the stress of just being there was exhausting. At least I recognized it now that I’d spent some time away. It was like I was allergic to something in the walls, but instead of a rash I just broke out with this intense urge to binge. Especially now that I’d moved back to where it all started.Īs soon as I got home, I could feel how toxic the environment was for me. I was worried I would start again if I couldn’t talk to her when I needed help. She was the reason I hadn’t thrown up in weeks. My heart already ached from missing her, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to watch the life drip out of her into the plastic bags that hung around her bed. I mean, Dawn was the best thing that had happened to me since I started high school. After all, Dawn was her only sister and she’d been blowing her off for the last ten years. I couldn’t imagine how much she must have been hurting. Then she’d just look at me sadly, hang her head, and walk away. ![]() It’s just that every time she opened her mouth nothing came out. My Mom had barely said two words to me since Dawn died. “A woman has to live her life, or live to repent not having lived it.” Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental. ![]() Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.Īll characters in this story are fictitious. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, copied, or stored in any form or by any means without permission of the author. ![]()
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