All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
Come back inside
Come back inside!
As I rushed out,
the front door swinging on its hinges, as I jerked it open.
You here me! You come back, right now!
I was running now, feet slapping against the soaked pavements, drenching my pants with sloshing puddles.
Her shouts muffled as I disappeared into the rain,
the commands blending in the wind, wisping through the fog
I scowled, picturing the grown woman standing there, in the doorway,
her hands holding her head as she cried, wet
tears streaking her made-up face,
telling herself lies to keep her sane.
Help me understand! She would shriek, why are you doing this? I didn’t know,
What I was doing,
Why I did it.
I just knew, one more minute with this helpless woman,
Would bruise me more than the strikes of my
Her wretched life, the stories of her adolescence, not that they were that long ago,
16 and pregnant left her with no one but me. A screaming baby,
with more tears than even her.
I was so angry I couldn’t feel the shivers, or the freezing rain scratching at my face,
leaving long red lines on my cheekbones.
My mother was all that I had left, but that day,
my hate finally stole
the last bit of optimism
I had left. Leaving me blackened.
I only came back home to grab my bag and the money
I had rolled up under my socks,
As I walked down the carpeted stairs I saw my mother, long past out, her body crumpled on the couch, arms limp, hanging to the side. The liquor cabinet had washed her sadness away hours ago and I finally knew what I had to do.
I ran away.