When I was eleven my dads car radio got stolen. The radio I used to bring me joy, the radio my dad and I laughed at, the radio that sang "F is for fun" after one of the best daddy daughter dates I've ever experienced, the radio that played my parents wedding song every day.My dad purchased a new radio later, a better one. This radio is a new model, an updated version. I use it to block out the black outs my mom has, to mute the sound of her whiskey bottles hitting the floor, to deafen the death threats nicotine breathes for my father, to tell me I'm not alone. But over time radio wasn't enough, I could still see everything that happened, so radio invited his friend over to help. His name was hidden. He would whisper the word "closet" to me when radio didnt blind me from the whiskey and the smoke. Hidden led me to protection once. It was behind two white doors, I opened them and sat inside with radio and hidden. Hidden made a safe haven without any bottles, where the only packs were filled with candy, where I was oblkivious to the glass thrown at these doors, where i was safe. But I could still smell, I could smell the drugs burnt on my fathers tongue, the drink that poisoned my mothers walking, that made the monster come. I could still smell it. I tried, I really did. At the age of twelve I told myself radio and hidden were enough, that would never turn into my mom and dad, that I would be more than that, I told myselfI would never be a statistic, I would never throw myself away like that. But I did, oh I did, I have nothing anymore, I am at the end of myself, I havent talked to radio or hidden in 3 years, they are now hollow bones collecting dust next to my past self, I wanted to be so much more than what I am now, I am nothing but a statistic. I let myself be the one in five kids who end up addicts just like their parents. I let myself be part of the 48.2% of adolecents with depression, I let myself fall. And when I finally reach the floor I hear the sound of my mothers whiskey bottles breaking, I am not even worth bone and flesh I am now made of glass, defined by my parents choices, never amounting to anything, I am only a statistic, I am only a bottle who can hold so much befoore I tip, before I break, before I am thrown. I promise you when I reach my limit radio and hidden will slip from my grasp, my safe haven will be locked behind empty pill bottles and crushed beer cans, it will be miles behind me to the point where I can no longer see it. I am at the end of myself with no one around me becausethey all have a raio and a hidden so when I yell no one comes and when I look around all I see are pairs of white doors guarded by innocence. I wish I could go back. I want my dads old car radio, the one that played the melody of happy memories, the one in his old grand prix, the one someone stole. But they didn't just steal my radio, no, they take my mom at night to replace her with a hell version of herself, they take years off my fathers life span, they took my dreams, they took my dreams, they took my safe haven, they took everyone away. And now, I've stopped fighting, I am letting them take me too...