There is one thing people don’t know about many families, and that is what goes on behind those closed doors. My name is Alena Bates and I am an only child. I am 16 years old and in the 11th grade. My parents are Lillian and Christopher Bates. They aren’t the best parents in the world but they do what they can to support me and them, well, at least that’s how it was. Afterall not everything can stay perfect for long.
A month ago everything changed. We were happy living where we were at and doing great, but then disaster struck hard. We fell behind on the rent and had to move within a short notice. Since we were all stressed out about that, we all went down hill. I was the perfect A student and was made fun of it because of that but after the move my grades dropped and it just kept getting worse. My mom started getting pills from people and started taking them and then my father had to get another job just to keep up the payments on the new apartment that we live in now.
As time passed by, my teacher started to notice a change in me and my grades and decided to say something about it. It was around 3:00 o’clock on Wednesday when she said something.
Mrs. Lesley told the class after she finished her lecture, “Alright class, before you leave today I would like you all to turn in your homework from last night into the box.”
  “Yes ma’am,” said the whole class.
“Oh and Miss. Bates would you please stay after class?”
“May I ask why Mrs. Lesley?”
“Just stay and I’ll explain.”
“Yes ma’am”
Everyone in the class started saying “Oooohhh,”
“That’s enough class. Back to work.”

It felt like a hour passed by before class finally ended and within that hour, I could hear that bully Julian making fun of me again.
“Teachers pet” he would say giggling or “You are in trouble, pet”
I can’t tolerate that kid but I can’t do anything without him hitting me or his friends jumping me. I may be a girl but that doesn’t matter to them.
Finally, the bell rings.”Bye guys, Have a good day. And don’t forget to put your homework in the box.”
Everyone dropped papers into the box as they left and started chatted to one another. As I walked up to the desk, I was shaking and thinking of what they little talk was about. Mrs. Lesley never seemed to care about me or my grades before so I’m curious as to what this is about.
“You w-wanted to s-see me Mrs. Lesley.”
“Ah yes! Please have a seat. I wanted to talk to you about your grades. And please don’t be nervous.”
“I know I’m falling behind, but..”
“Don’t explain. I don’t care why they aren’t what they should be or use to be, just pick it back up. I don’t want to have to repeat my teaching to you again. Understood?”
“Yes ma’am. I’ll try my best to get them up.”
“Good. Now get out.”
I walked through the hallway trying to calm down. Little did I know there was someone waiting for me around the corner. It was Julian and his little “gang” just standing and waiting for me.
“Hey pest. Where you going.” said Julian as he crossed his arms walking towards me.
“Leave me alone. I need to head home.”
“Did you hear something? It sounded like a little someone just tried to tell me what to do.”
“That’s what it sounded like to me. Maybe it’s time to teach this one a lesson.”
Principle Johnson came out of his office and notice what was going on.
“Kids head home now and don’t make me repeat myself.” he sternly said and walked away.
Right before Julian left he pushed me into the wall. “You’ll regret that little one.”

On the way home, I thought of what Mrs. Lesley had told me and how she is so cruel to just me but everyone else she doesn’t treat that way. I think she has something against me. Mrs. Lesley is the type of teacher who says what she wants and does’t care. She never did anything about the bullying that Julian and his friends did. Every time I walk home, I just want to turn around and walk the other way and never look back because I know what waits for me at home. One high mother and one drunk father and things to clean up.
I arrive at my house and smell alcohol and see bottle of pills on the table and crushed up pills. They were at it again fighting and throwing things because everything is across the room or broken. I fear for my life as I walk through the doors of my own house wishing they would forget that I was here because I knew a beating was waiting for me. I went into my room and my things are everywhere and my bed is apart. As I clean up my room, I discover some of my old medicine from two years ago called opioid painkillers when I broke my arm. I had ended up taking about two pills to relax my nerves and trying to relieve my mental pain. Little did I know that was the start of and addiction.
After I took some medicine, I was so relaxed that I fell asleep and didn’t realize what happened that night until I woke up. Due to taking that medicine I couldn’t feel anything that had happened. I woke up to my clothes on the floor and everything below my waist was hurting me. I couldn’t think of what happened. My head was fuzzy because not only I was asleep but also that dang medicine. As I thought about it and what all the things lead up to, I knew what had happened. I was raped by my own father. I don’t think he even knows it happened because of him being so drunk and my mother was passed out on the floor again.
On Thursday morning, I didn’t bother to even clean up or eat breakfast, instead I went straight to school and cried on my way there. But what happened this morning was only the beginning. I couldn’t think this morning could get any worse then finding out something like that happened to me, until I ran into Julian. Literally. When he turned around and realized who it was, he pushed me down and kicked me.
“Watch where you are going you little pest,” Julian said angrily.
“Awe, look Julian the little pest has been crying.” One of Julian’s friends said as he lifted up my chin.
I couldn’t stop crying and it made everything worse. They
started pulling my hair and kicking me and of course, all they could do was laugh at me. No one helped me. Not even Principal Johnson who saw what was happening and just walked pass us and went inside.
Once they finally quit hurting me, I ran off. I ran all the way home and didn’t plan on ever going back to school. I got home and ran into room. I pushed my dresser in front of my door thinking that no one will get into my room and cried. On the other side of door I could hear my parents yelling at me.
“Why aren’t you in school?” yelled father.
“You ignorant brat! Go to school like you are suppose to! We aren’t going to waste money on you if you won’t even go to school!” yelled mother
“You hear us?!”
“Open this door right now Alena or else”
They kept yelling at me and banging on the door. They definitely weren’t themselves because if they were, they would have left me alone instead of trying to talk to me. I can’t believe what has happened in just the span of two months. We use to be happy and now they hate and abuse me. I miss the old days. I miss all the laughs we had about the silly things we all did and the fun times we shared together as a family. But now, there is no family, not anymore.
I looked over the bottle of medicine I had found and thought to myself “If just taking two can make me relax and fall asleep, I wonder what would happen if I take more.Or maybe all? Would I die? Would I have ODed? Would I have put myself in a coma? Who would care if that happened? Would my parents blame themselves? I hope so because they did this to me. Maybe this is for the best. Yeah it is.”
I grabbed the bottle and held it in my hand, just staring at it. I shaking so bad and having trouble opening the bottle. When I opened the bottle, I pour them all out and it look like there were maybe twenty pills. I would definitely die from this many. I took them all. Every single one of them and laid down.
I whispered to myself and wrote down on a piece of paper,
“Goodbye to all those who never loved me, who abused me, who called me names, who never helped me, who never learned to say my name, and to those who stopped being my family the day they picked up the bottle and took that pill or picked up that whiskey bottle and drowned their sorrows.
Mom and dad, I’m sorry it had to end this way but if you really cared about me, your daughter, you would’ve never done what you did. Because of you I am not longer with you. Because of you you will no longer be parents.
Also, mother, if you never started talking those pill, I would still be here but because you did, I got the idea of just dying in my sleep using the medicine that was prescribed to me.

                    -Your dead daughter Alena Bates.”

A couple hours after I had committed suicide by overdosing, Christopher had finally got into my room. They tried to wake me up by shaking me, slapping my face, and yelling at me. They didn’t know I was dead until they had called an ambulance who pronounced me dead at scene. I may have been dead but that night I say something in my mother’s eyes. It was lost. She did care for me. She did love me. I could have never thought that she still cared for me because of what she had done to me or said to me. Maybe it wasn’t her? Maybe it was just the pills? Why did I do this? It’s too late now to change what happened. My story ended the moment I took that first pill. This is what happens when you do something so dangerous and harmful.
After the police had seen all the medicine bottles and beer bottles from my parents, they were immediately taken to get help from therapist and were guarded with their every move. They finally had realized that their little girl was gone, that this was their fault, that I would never return back to them again. All in all they got their lives together and ended up getting jobs which were helping them both stay clean. Not long after my death maybe seven months, mom was pregnant again and in that moment I hoped the best for them and I had left them alone finally to pass on.

What people don’t know about others, is their story. They don’t know what goes on behind closed doors. They don’t know their past but most importantly they don’t know their future. Teens and young adults can get addicted to medicine at a young age and won’t know better about how much is too much until it is too late. Just within the age group of 13-24, about 150,000 teens and young adults overdose accidentally. There are many things you can learn from this like, drugs aren’t the solution to your problems, people need to help those in need, drugs/medicine shouldn’t be easy to get ahold of, ect. But the most important thing is that people shouldn’t be aloud to get medicine unless it is by a doctor and it is prescribed to them, but even then the one using it should be monitored when taking them. The problem with the world now is that you can get pills from off the streets or you can make them. We need to think about the generations that are gradually getting bigger and need our help and support and not something that can kill them. Just think on that. Also a reminder is suicide is gradually getting bigger which each year that is passing by.