The look on my mothers face stung at my heart. Through the pain
she put me through it still nearly ripped my heart out of my
chest to see her like this. Every tear that rolled down her worn
cheeks were like slaps across the face. My chest hurt. I felt the
panick rise as I saw the look in her eyes cast over and her face
harden. She stood up and told me to get the belt. I told her
"Jessie. I told you to do something," My mother said. and she
looked me in the eyes. She moved closer and I tried not to flinch
"Please Mom. Don-" And then the slap across my face wasn't from
her tears but from her wrinkled dirty hand. I tried to hold back.
The anger the swelled in the pit of my stomach was far too much
for me to even attempt to handle. I put my hands on her shoulders
trying not to grip hard. Her face dropped.
"Get your filthy hands off of me, you brat!" When i heard the
words i remained calm.
"You honestly think words can hurt me now?" I said. I took a step
"Is that why the look is in your eyes again? The same look you
had when your father walked out on us? Jessie you can't keep
acting like he is coming back. You need to get over it."
"You listen here. My Dad didn't walk out or runaway. He died." I
said grinding my teeth.
"Oh, so he didn't get in that car after I asked him to stay home.
I had a terrible dream the night before and I just knew something
was happening. He walked out the door. HE WALKED AWAY!" My
mother said spitting in my face.
"Sorry you feel guilty. Yet you act as if you aren't right now. I
need you more then ever. I am only fourteen. I had to get a job
at tweve years old while you were laying on the couch crinking
away any emotion you could. If that isn't walking away, then what
it?" I said not yelling but remaining calm. I was trying my best
to keep calm.
"Get out. Don't come back," she said and she had no emotion on
her face or in her faded blue, nearly gray eyes. I took a step
back and tried to keep the tears from falling down my face making
a wet trail, but they were coming. They wouldn't be stopping.
"I loved Mom, not Cady."
I was walking away then. I went to my room and packed a pair of
clothes and reached for the trap door under my bed. I Lifted it
up by the rusty, squeky handle. I picked up the object inside and
put it in my bag. I put on boots and and threw on a an old
leather jacket I had. It was blizzardous outside so i grabbed the
thickest beanie I had. I went through the kitchen grabbing all
the alcohol or pills that were in the house. My mother was
already passed out on the couch from the energy it took to tell
me how big a piece of crap I was. It was okay.
I went into the front yard and grabbed a lighter from my pocket.
I took the remanents of my clothes which were very few and
through then under the dry side of a tree. I lit them on fire.
After it got going, i threw on the bottles of pills and only god
would no what else. Then I pulled out the bottles of cheap
whiskey and poured it over the top. As I was doing so my mother
ran out of the house. Looks like I won't have much time, I
thought to myself. Then I Just broke the last few of the bottles
that were left on the street. Just then she was running after me,
but she was so intoxicated that she began stumbling over every
little pebble in her way.
Yet after years of this is still hurt to see my caring mother be
at rock bottom. I can't think of her as my mother now though. She
is just Cady. I sped up and soon she stopped and fell to the
ground crying. I had to keep walking. Just keep going Jessie. You
can't help her anymore. Even though I didn't know if it was my
thought or someone elses who was just in my head, I had to take
the advice and run. I am doing this for her. If I leave she will
realize she has to. It was Christmas Eve. I was without anyone.
Just like my mother has been for years now. I always had my
father in my heart. Did she even have that anymore?
She will soon, I said to myself. I can't make her change. Or....
Could I? She changed after my father died and she wanted him. She
loved him, but me?
I pulled out the 9 millimeter I had grabbed from the trapdoor I
had under my bed. I remember my dad showing me where it was at if
anything ever happened to me. This was the first time I had held
it since then. It would also be my last. I felt a tear fall from
my face. If I leave this world tonight it will wake her up. I
have thought to hard as to how to wake her from the long seven
year daze she has been in.
I pulled the gun to my head. I put it on my left side of the head
right behind the ear.
"I love you Mom," I said and i took my last breath as I began to
pull the trigger.
The last sound I heard was the boom.
The last sight I had was the big Christmas tree in the middle of
The last wish I had was for my mother to be pulled out of her
hole she was in.
The last memory I had was m mother, father, and I opening
presents just seven years ago.
Ten years later Cady on this very day, Christmas Eve, she was
driving to the cemetary where her son was burried next to his
She pulled out the pack of cigerettes from her purse. She began
to light one up when she was getting out of the car. This was her
last addiction she had. Cady hadn't taken a drink or popped a
pill since that night her one and only son had burned what
remained in the house. Then the wind caught her cigarette and
nearly knocked it out of her hand. Instead of it falling, she
"Jessie, boy. It's Momma," She said and leaned down with her back
against the headstone. "I come here every single year, yet this
is the first time I had the guts to say one word. I am sorry. I
am sorry I wasn't there when you needed me. I missed seven years
of your preciouse like. Right now, you would be 24 years old
spending Christmas with me if I hadn't made my way to rock
bottom. I am sorry. I love you."
She laid there by the headstone for hours. The last time she had
looked at her phone was one o'clock. It was christmas. She would
be spending it with her dead son, who was right beneath her. She
thought of him as the seven year old boy.