“Everything’s going to be alright,” I whispered to myself as I curled into a tight ball. I hid behind my bookshelf, shielding myself from this horrible nightmare. Crying I looked up to the ceiling as if I was searching for God, but I learned that there is no one to save me from this pain, not even God himself. As I held my bleeding shoulder, blood spilled out between my fingers, and dripped onto the floor. Pain seared through my body. I could taste something metallic, and fear clouded my thoughts. The sound of yelling echoed in my ears. Mom and Dad were at it again.
“Why can’t you just be sober? This is all your fault! You hurt your dau-” her words were choked out and turned to sobs. Dad’s drunken yell rang through the house piercing my heart.
“I don’t care! I don’t care about you or that kid,” he said with slurred words. His words rang through my ears, hitting me square in the gut.
More tears streamed down my cheeks, and pain in my heart grew stronger. “Dad had a little too much to drink,” I tried to convince myself. “This won’t happen again,” I said but I knew better.
It was almost daily that Mom and Dad fought. Every time they fought, I felt more weight being put on my shoulders, and I felt like I had to hold them up but my strength wouldn’t allow it. The pit in my stomach grew larger. I felt hallow inside, like nothing was left, like I was nothing; detached from this world, separated from reality. Depression clung to me, whispering its cold words into my ear. Nothing I could do would rid myself of this horrible pain. nothing I did seemed to work, I tried so hard every day to be happy, but depression had its grip on me and he wasn’t letting go.
I looked over at my still-bleeding shoulder. Shards of broken vodka bottle protruded from my slashed skin. Dark scarlet blood still oozed out of the fresh wound. The scent of iron clung to the air, making me light headed. Mustering up the strength, I pulled each shard out, wincing in pain each time. Constant pain throbbed my shoulder, causing me to wither in agony. I looked up in shock to see my Mom’s tear stained face looking down at me. Her eyes glazed over with pain.
“Mom,” I managed to whimper out.
“Shhh sweetie everything’s going to be okay,” she whispered to me, her hands gently cupped my cheeks and for a second, all the pain prior to this moment dissolved. My mom tried hiding her personal pain and fears to help me cope with my own. But as long as she hurt, so did I.