Angels of Anaheim
Author's note: This was written by a dream I had. THIS IS REVISED!! It's not the same as the original, so... Show full author's note »
Chapter ThreeThey offered to drive me home, but I refused, figuring that I’d been too much of a nuisance already. I walked home the way I came. I opened the door, and walked to the bathroom. Soda doesn’t always sit well with pizza. I didn’t see Mom anywhere. Figures. She was probably out getting more speed.
I opened the door to the bathroom, and shut it behind me. I looked up, and my heart jumped; our bathroom mirror was shattered. Blood was in the sink, the mirror, the floor. I gasped, and whirled around, trying to find the source.
Mom lay in the bathtub, blood running from a gash in her forehead. Shiny glass protruded from the wound. I wanted to scream. I grabbed her, and shook her. She wasn’t moving. I didn’t think she was breathing, but I got a moan out of her. I ran to the phone and dialed 911. It didn’t make a sound. Mom hadn’t paid the bill this month. Or the month before. And maybe before that. She’d used the money on meth.
I ran to the neighbors and called the police. I sat with Mom next to the tub, crying, and praying for this nightmare to end. Soon, Mom was put into an ambulance, and sent to the hospital. I rode with a police officer, and sat in the waiting room as the doctors pulled glass from Mom’s head and gave her CAT scans down the hall.
I cried harder than ever before. I lost Andrew, and then Dad, now Mom was next. Like a fricking assembly line. A line that wiped people out of my life. I just cried and cried as a woman came up to me. She had a clipboard.
“Are you Maddie?” she asked. I nodded, face buried in my arms. “My name’s Mrs. Simpson. I’m gonna be your case worker. We contacted your father and he’s on his way. Alright?” she said.
“You got my dad?” I asked, shocked. I hadn’t heard from him in forever. She nodded.
“I know you guys hadn’t spoken for a while, but he sounded shocked when we told him about this situation,” she said. SITUATION? This is an effin nightmare! I thought. All I could do was nod. If I stood up and screamed, it wouldn’t do anything but get me a counselor, and one was probably gonna be issued to me anyway.
I sat there for probably another hour. Thirty minutes into it, I saw someone come towards me from the hall. It was my dad. He was like a grown-up Andrew. He ran up and hugged me.
“Maddie! It’s been so long!” he cried as he squeezed me. I nodded, despite tears. He grabbed my shoulders and talked to me. “I wish this never happened. It shouldn’t have. I should have never left you with her,” he said, tears rolling. “Has the doctor told you anything?” he asked. I shook my head. He sat me down. “Well, when you’re high on meth, you get a thing called self-mutilation disorder. It makes you want to hurt yourself. Mom had that, and slammed her head into the mirror. I don’t know why that happens, but it does. You’ll probably live with me for a while. It’s gonna be alright, though,” he said. I nodded. He still cried. “I’m just so sorry,” he said over and over again.
“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” I said.
“Yes, I did. I divorced her because of the meth,” he said. I was silent. The jerk left me with her, despite the fact that she would get diseases that made her slam her head into things. If I told you all the names that I was calling him in my head, this would be the world’s longest book, and it’d be banned everywhere. I didn’t say a word, because I’d probably be labeled as ‘damaged’ with the words I’d say. It didn’t matter. I was already damaged. I always would be. I. Was. Broken.