Life with an Alcoholic

By , Jones Avenue, NV
My grandpa picks me up from school. My boyfriend's arm was wrapped around my waist, we share a tender kiss as I climb into the car. He says goodbye as do I. As we're driving, my grandpa tells me that my mom was drinking again. I ask if she's an alcoholic, he says all I know is that she drinks too much.

I get home to find my six year old brother upstairs on the couch playing his Nintendo DS. I ask him where grandma is. He says sleeping. She was tired and I understand that. I walk into my mom's bedroom to find her sprawled on her bed. She's asleep of course. I say mommy, she moans and falls back asleep. She was supposed to pick me up but left it in the hands of my grandpa. She says she's too sick to go to work but then she drinks when her friend comes over. She has passed out from one too many shots again.

It's getting worse. On days where she goes to the bowling alley, she gets wasted with her friends too. My life and my brother's are in her hands when she drives us home after. I cling onto him and pray for our lives. No car crashes yet.

She's also nasty when she's drunk. She yells and screams and then if you talk back, she'll cry and yell even louder. I'm writing this as she is still asleep. I'm thirteen and it feels as if I'm drowning in a lake and can't find the surface. My boyfriend is the only thing helping me catch these painful breaths.





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