"Where are you, Mom?"

Her face was a few inches from mine.
And I could feel the heavy breaths she took.
Her breath still stunk of alcohol
There were no eye movements from her.
But I could tell she was disgusted
With the fear in my eyes.
Her eyes glistened with thick hatred,
That last word transformed,
To the several stabs at my abdomen.
I never expected this from her.

Let's take a drive back to this morning.
7am.
Mom was at the sink,
Rinsing the dishes,
Glancing at the twins hovering around her,
And grumbling all the while.
She glanced at the dining table.
Where I was,
Struggling to finish the meal.
I had made sure all the beans were removed,
Because I detested them.
And Mom detested me for that.

I know she didn't hate me,
But I could tell,
That these days,
Mom was pissed with everything.
Not having Dad around.
My ADHD,
The twins scattering things around,
Her unrealised dreams,
And her life in general.

Twenty minutes later,
I finished my meal,
And saw that the twins had left already,
And it was time for third period.
Okay I need to hurry, I said quietly.
Grabbed my duffel bag,
Dropped a kiss on Mom's cheek,
And reached for the doorknob.
Funny that she didn't return the kiss,
But that's okay.

School was stressful as always.
Sitting on that uncomfortable piece of wood all day,
I desired my soft sofa dearly,
And rushed home.
The twins would have gotten home already so I wasn't worried,
Neither were they.

I reached for the doorknob exactly as I did in the morning,
I met Mom on the sofa.
Greeted her with a big smile,
But got no reply.
Her head was on the headrest,
Her right hand in the air,
And the other clutching tightly to a bottle.
A brown glass bottle, with a familiar label.

Mom had been drinking.

I remember being as swift as Germans would say windig.
But, Mom held onto her bottle with a bigger force.
She put the drink to her chest,
And twisted her lips in anger.
After some moments of struggling,
I grabbed the drink from her.
The reaction force sent me straight on the floor,
And the bottle ended its life.

Mom was furious.
She began kicking and hitting me.
Honestly, I've never seen Mom hit anyone so hard.
I wondered if this was just the alcohol,
Or something else.

My eyes wandered to the table,
There was a lighter,
And something that looked like Aluminum foil.
"Had Mom taken drugs too?" I wondered.
It was evident she had,
Given the degree of injuries on my left leg.
If I could stand up, I would.
What happened to Mom,

Mom..Mom?
Are you there?
This can't be my Mom.
Mommy?

I held my left leg steadily and tried to stand.

Hope the twins aren't around.
They shouldn't see this.

I was about to succeed,
But my psycho Mum pushed me down. Hard.
The pain went right through my pelvis.
I couldn't help but scream.

What's going on Mom?

The pain spread out,
Hailing other bones as it went through,
And they reciprocated.

The knife emerged from nowhere.
And then came the dialogue.
I mean monologue.
"I always knew you were good for nothing!"
She cried.
And I could see the anguish in her face.
"Your father said nothing was wrong.
But see me now!
He left. And is enjoying his damned life.
Left me with this good-for-nothing piece of shit."
I couldn't believe it.
Is that really what you think of me, Mummy?
The thought and words flowed out at the same time,
With hot tears, decorating my cheeks.

"You're the cause of my problems, Audrina!
I wish you would just die!
You just keep making life hard for me."
She said the words with an unknown despair.
"You can't do anything right!
Just be dumb. Dumb. Stupid everywhere!
Very not normal kid,
And that stupid man left me with this baggage of garbage."

Was that a rhyme, Mum?

I was at school suffering from a wooden bench.
Meanwhile, my mum had prepared something harder for me.
This seat's tougher than chromium.
Talkless of steel.

We began knife battling.
As if it were a sport.
I tried to dodge the hits even with the intense pain.
I succeeded a few times.
But when Mom said, "Just die!"
I felt weak. Very weak.

Was it my fault I was born with ADHD?
God has a reason for creating me this way.
And I'm sure it's for his glory.
So Mum, please don't hate me.
I will try to be better.
Please.

I became weaker,
As Mom lowered her face,
And I smelled the alcohol strongly,
Plus whatever else she had taken.
It was evident it was the drugs doing this.
But I could sense a hatred for me in her heart.
As this saddening thought zoomed in my subconscious,
Her knife flew in and out of my lower abdomen.
Each streak of blood measuring how deep the wounds were.
I wanted to stay alive.
So I screamed aloud,
Hoping the neighbours would hear,
And rescue me from these drugs.

I closed my eyes,
whispering a prayer.
“If this is my end,
let it be peace.”

And as darkness wrapped around me,
I held one thought:
Mom, I forgive you.

Image by Дарья Яковлева from Pixabay