Speak Up

My mother has been habitual drug user (methamphetamine being one of the multitude, but also one of the worst) and has since before I was even a twinkle in my daddy's eye. My mother and father met in a bar and probably had a one night stand, that, three months later my mother had realized had gone seriously wrong. She probably went to the doctor to realize her worst fears- she was pregnant. To feed the monster's in her head, she fed them, well, will tokes of meth, snorts of coke, hits of acid, and slurps of alcohol. She hid me from my father for most of the pregnancy. Until, one day, he showed up out of the blue at her tiny apartment across the street from my Grandmother's lavish house. "I love you and always will, please marry me and raise our daughter with me. You can take your son with you too and I'll love him like my own." Her son (my brother), who was 4 at the time, loved the idea of having a daddy and my mother agreed. They went down to the courthouse to have their wedding and my dad bought her a trailer in the country on two acres of land with plenty of room for their family to play and have barbeques. Sooner rather than on time my mother popped me out and luckily I wasn't addicted to all the drugs she was feeding to me and the monsters in her head. I only had underdeveloped lungs and possible brain damage showed on a MRI. But otherwise, I was healthy and happy to be out of the confines of my mother's drug laced womb. My mother cleaned up for a while, stopped all of her drugs and all of her stupidity. But the monsters screamed at her, telling them that her family was lying to her, that we didn't need her. When I was 5, Meemaw and Pawpaw (my brother's father's parents) came to visit and told me that I couldn't stay with them at their house, that they just wanted my brother there and that I was just going to stay home. I didn't argue, although I was depressed. My dad went to the hospital a couple of weeks later, while I was at school, complaining of chest pains. It turns out he had had a massive heart attack and needed 5 bypass surgery in order to live. Once my mother got wind of him having surgery and that after, he would be broke, she split, leaving me at the trailer alone. I was only 5 and didn't know how to do anything but make peanut butter and banana sandwiches, but I couldn't reach the bread on top of fridge, and seeing as how we didn't have enough money for groceries the week before. There was nothing to eat but the bread. I picked at my fingers, waiting for my mother or father to show up. After day 3 I was so hungry I resorted to going to the neighbor's house to ask for a snack. When I showed up on the door step she told me to stay with her. She took me in for a few days and took me school and even bathed me and played with me. And then my daddy came home from the hospital but he was too weak to take care of me. Shortly after, my aunt and uncle took me in to live with them. My first Christmas with my new family, my mother came with the monsters in her head and a gun in her hand. I ran to her and hugged her, not knowing any better. She pointed the gun at my new found family, and screamed obscenities, "If you fucking move I'll blow her fucking brains out." They complied and I lived with my mother until they found us. I hadn't bathed or changed clothes since Christmas, I was sleeping on the carpet in a crack house and trying to drown out the music that was always playing. My mother came in one night and asked me to undress in front of this man. I did it thinking that maybe it was bath time. I was wrong and my mother said, "I need a toke in exchange for her." I was abused all that night, several times over- all for a toke of meth. Three days later the police found us, and I was returned to my aunt and uncle. I've lived with them and haven't talked to her in years. She's since had 1 girl with a different man and I've vowed till the day I die that my sister won't suffer at the hands of our mother.