Tristan
For as long as I can remember, my parents were both alcoholics. We weren't rich people but my father's family had left him an inheritance and my father had been wise enough to invest some of that inheritance. Because of that, my parents felt that they didn't need to work and drank day and night.
They spent most of their money on alcohol and very little on food. Always feeling hungry because there was never a lot of food, I began to beg around the neighborhood. Sometimes I would even do odd jobs for money. When I was twelve, an old man from my neighborhood hired me to work at his small store, stocking, cleaning, and anything else he needed.
From that day on, I always had food and I didn't need to depend on my parents for anything other than a roof over my head. For the first time in my young life, I didn't feel so helpless. Since the house was part of dad's inheritance, we lived rent-free. The house was big enough that my parents and I rarely saw each other, which they were happy about, and I had to admit, I was too.
My parents had a knack for ignoring me, I suppose they loved alcohol more than me. Yes, I was lonely since I was an only child and my parents had little to do with me. I didn't have friends because I had no time for them. All my time was taken up by school and my job, plus when I had any extra time, I wrote short stories. Writing helped me to feel less lonely and allowed me to let my imagination run wild.
But to be honest, I was grateful that my parents ignored me instead of abusing me like that little girl, Andie, I met recently. She was sitting in front of her building shivering and hungry the first time I saw her. I felt bad for her, as she sat on the cold concrete stairs of the building she lived in. I gave her the extra sweater I kept in my backpack, along with some other items to help with the hunger.
Mr. Honeywell was my boss, a 73-year-old widower that owned a mom-and-pop store a block from Andie's building. His wife died a few months before he hired me and he had been running the store alone since. Taking care of the store all by himself at his age was taking a toll so he hired me to take off some of the stress. He had a habit of giving me food before sending me home.
The night I met Andie I was glad for that habit of his. After giving her the sweater and sandwich, I set a juice box and an apple on the bench before hurrying home. I had to get home to bed since I had school the next day. Just because my parents ignored me didn't mean I wanted to end up like them. I didn't hate my parents, but I sure as hell didn't like how they ignored me.
I saw Andie from time to time and gave her food before making my way home. She had dropped a candy bar I had given her one time and upon bending over to pick it up, her shirt rode up to reveal her scar-riddled back. When I asked how she got them, that's when I found out how her life was much worse than mine. I thought a lot about her after that.
About two months later, I found Andie outside her building crying and looked half-starved. She told me everything that happened and I decided then that she would come live with me. I would do a better job of looking after her than her parents did for her, or my parents did for me. Neither of us had anyone to love us, but now we would have each other to look out for. That's what I wanted.
YOU ARE READING
Never Say Goodbye
Short Story**********Complete********* Andie had a pretty tough life, her dad had abandoned them when she was two. Her mom worked hard to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. But as time wears on, mom starts to physically abuse her. One day her...
