Police Visit

By , Nooksack, WA
September 22, 2011
Being 15 years old, I felt like I was a top of the world. Had the cute boyfriend, partied every weekend, did what I wanted to, tons of friends, guys lining up… What else could I ask for? I would have to say EVERYTHING. Appearances can be deceiving and mine was no exception. Truth is, I was 15 almost 16, with the wrong guy who didn’t care about me, hanging out with the wrong people, making bad choices, and fighting with my parents 24/7. Nobodies life is perfect, but mine was shattering into pieces and all I could do was pretend like everything was alright. Being the oldest in the family, I grew up always having to take care of my brothers and had to learn to fall and get back up on my own. My whole freshman year was made mistake after mistake; fall after fall; and all I could do was watch myself from afar and not do anything about it. The beginning of sophomore year though; changed everything. Finally, reality slapped me in the face; or I should say, my mom.

September 23, 2009.
“Hurry, they’re calling us.” Javier said to me.
“Hold on, this is the last one, let me just chug it.” I responded.
It was a Wednesday afternoon, felt like it was 100 degrees outside, and I was at a quinceanera practice. What more could I say, it’s impossible to resist some coronas under these circumstances. Javier and I were in his car, apart from everybody to make sure nobody noticed. We were waiting for Sandra’s mom to get back from picking up all the other people so we could start practice. Just as I was done with the last one, I saw Amy, our choreographer, coming towards us. Our cue to leave.
“Let’s bounce.” I announced.
“Are you ok?” Asked Javier, worried.
“Man, you already know I can take six and way more.” I answered back proudly.
“If you say so.” Murmured Javier.
We both got out of the car and headed to where everybody was at; by the basketball court. Like every other practice we followed routine; give up cell phones, practice, practice, practice; with me messing like half of the time of course. Time went by flying and before I knew it, practice was over. As I was waiting for Sandra’s mom to finish up some last minute duties, I noticed a group of friends huddled in the parking lot, so I headed towards them. Just when I was getting there, my other friend Javier nodded at me. He extended his arm towards me with a modelo in his hands.
“Drink it.” He simply stated.
“I already had some though.” I answered back.
“Come on; Don’t tell me you’re going to chicken out on me.” He mimicked.
(Laughing) “Of course not Javier, you already know I’m down.”
“That’s my girl.” Javier said, with a smile on his face.
Just to show him not to underestimate me, I chugged that modelo down like water. Just as I expected, I left him and everybody else open-mouthed. I beamed; eventually lost count on how many I’d drunken. Out of nowhere, Sandra’s mom started calling out my name, then I was in the car and in less than a beat, home; To my luck, nobody was home. When I realized this, I sighed in relief. At least I wasn’t going to have to give any explanations, I thought. Ten minutes later, I was laying down on my bathroom floor, talking to my ex. (He called me.) I was so into the conversation that I didn’t notice there was an intruder.
“Open the door!” Exclaimed my mother from the other side of the door.
“Oh s***,” I whispered into the phone, “Hey I got to hang up, it’s my mom.” I didn’t wait for his response. I hung up and tried to pull myself together. Standing up, with my heart about ready to leap out of my chest, I opened the door.
“Who were you talking to?” My mother questioned me.
“Nobody.” I merely said.
“I’m not stupid nor deaf. I heard you perfectly and you were talking to some guy. You were telling him that you loved him.”
“N-no I wasn-n’t.”
“Why are you slurring your words?”
“I’m n-not.” I repeated to her again.
“Look at me in the eyes.” She said, serious.
Stupidly, I looked down; Biggest mistake. She grabbed my chin and tilted my head upwards. That move was all it took for her to know. She didn’t wait for me to do or say anything. She instantly sent four slaps across my face. All I was left with, was a red aching cheek and a look on her face that I will never forget. After realizing what she had just done, I lost control.
“What is your problem!?” I shrieked to her face.
“You’re a drunkie! What? You think I don’t have enough problems with your father already?”
“Don’t you compare me to him!” I answered back, yelling.
“You think what you’re doing is any better than what he does?”
I glared her down with an anger I had never felt before, turned around a pushed the fish tank to the side and ran into the living room.
“I hate you! You don’t understand me! You never have! All I’ve ever wanted was for you to understand me.” I exclaimed, as I fell down to my knees, sobbing on the carpet.
“What the heck did you do? You did drugs didn’t you? Tell me if you did that; I swear I will call the cops on you.”
“Stop; Just leave me alone!” I yelled at her at the top of my lungs as I ran into the kitchen. Even drunk I was too fast for her. By the time she was in the kitchen, I was standing by the counter with a knife up against my wrist.
“Pull that down.”
“No! Come on, go ahead and call the cops on me. Do whatever you want to do, but I won’t be here for that.” The instant I said that, I regretted it, but I didn’t move from my place. My mom though, for the first time, teared up on me. She came towards me and whispered, “All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.”
“Guess what, I’m not.” I replied; my voice ice sharp.

September 24, 2009
How I got there is all a blur that I can’t quite exactly make out. I woke up in a bed that wasn’t mine and a smell of too clean, yes, a hospital. It was 10:00 a.m. I saw on the clock that was on the wall. A nurse came up to me, saying that my mom wanted to see me. Of course, my response was no.

September 22, 2011
A day like that is unforgettable. Yes, I was out of my mind drunk: my mom called the cops on me; I was written down as an attempt of suicide; and I woke up in a hospital with some very intimidating persons. Oh and a bump on my forehead. Now at 17 years old though, I can say that I learned my lesson. Even though I have grown up with my father always drinking, that doesn’t make me drinking any more acceptable. Sure, I did have problems, but alcohol is never going to be the solution. It isn’t easy being me. My parents expect perfection out of me and sometimes that’s just too much. I’m only a teenager. Every time I remember this day though, my throat swells up. I love my parents with all my heart, but it rips my heart out knowing they don’t and never have understood me. Every time I mess up, I’m yelling out to them in silence that I need them; that I’m suffering. All they see though is that I always f*** up. Truth is, no one is perfect.





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