Blinded by Color

Chapter 15 Kayla

I finished my shift on my first day back at work since my mom has been released from the hospital, and I am literally feeling the anxiousness of having to go home. I do not want to leave work. I was hoping to pick up another shift. Anything to avoid my mother and her toxic addiction. I decided that maybe just leaving her a note would be the best decision instead of chatting with her about leaving. I know she needs help, but if she's not going to try to help herself, I can't be held responsible for her actions. I am over trying to save the person she has become. I don't think I can take one more night of hell with her, and after reading my contract from the apartment I put a deposit on, I see I will not get my money back if I back out now. The money isn't the issue as much as dealing with my mom's shenanigans. I just can't do it anymore. I have been so preoccupied I haven't responded to any texts or checked any social media. My mom takes over my entire life. Last night was another episode of hell. She left the house on foot and told me she was walking to her friends' house. I wasn't aware she had any friends. I decided to follow her, and when she arrived a few blocks away from home, she called out to a man I presumed named Paul. She was slurring her words so bad it was hard to tell what she was saying, but my guess was correct to an extent. Apparently, she refers to him as Pauly.

Paul or Pauly lives in a duplex a few blocks from our home. His house was dirty. It reminded me of a hoarder's house because the outside was a disaster. There was overgrown grass, a broken metal gate, and the house was covered in what looked like mold. The front porch had old toys that a child must have played with years ago. It was awful. I watched as my mom staggered up the sidewalk and then the steps of the front porch. She banged on the door, still slurring her words as she screamed for "Pwalee, I know you huuurr meeeee... Pwawwleee." Finally, a rough-looking man who was nothing but a skeleton came to the door with no shirt on and ripped-up jeans. When he began talking to her, I noticed he was missing his teeth. He moved to let her in, and the door slammed behind them. I stood there for a minute, thinking my mom has really hit rock bottom if this was a man she was dating. I decided to take a picture of the house and get the address. I sent the picture to my uncle Rodney along with the location. He responded that he was familiar with Paul Ruben, and she was fine. I was confused and asked him how he could say that. Did he look at the house and the yard? He told me Paul has been in trouble with the law several times, his home was a place he has visited frequently, and to go on home because he would pick her up later. I am really starting to get annoyed by how much my mom's brother defends her poor choices in people. He defends her every move like she can do no wrong. It makes zero sense. This was another confirmation I had to move out. That night around eleven pm, my uncle's cruiser pulled into the driveway, hauling a sick and starving Slim up to the front porch. I didn't even budge this time to help him. I knew the drill by now. He will leave, and I will be left to care for her. My face burned with red blood flushing into my veins. I could feel the heat of anger rise up inside of me. I was so sick of this shit. I felt the tears well up in my eyes, and I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it was not going away. I stood there with tears streaming down my face listening to my uncle tell me she would be okay and to take good care of her, she was a good person, and I should know that it was not her fault. I hated him for this! I hated him for always having her back like she was some kind of prize to be won. He protected her at all costs. I know he saw my flushed face and tears, but of course, he ignored my pain and tended to his irrational sister. I rolled my eyes at each one of his sentences. By the time he left, I was past the point of my blood boiling. I didn't even care what happened! I ran to my room and slammed my door shut. She was not my responsibility, and this could not keep happening day in and day out. I cried myself to sleep only to be awoken at two am to my mother throwing up in my room next to my bed. I literally lay in my bed begging God to take her! Just take her, please, just take her! I was so frustrated! I had to work the morning shift at eight am, and here she was, puking her guts out right next to me. I got up and screamed at her. I said the most awful things, and in all my life, I have never talked to my mother like that. I didn't give her a shower this time. Instead, I huffed and puffed my angry breaths and threw her on the couch! I scrubbed my floor clean and headed for Jerimiah's room. It wreaked so bad in mine I couldn't take it! I opened my bedroom window and put the fan on, but I knew it would be awhile before that smell evaporated. I slept in J's bed, and it made me realize how much I missed him. When I woke up this morning, I sent him another quick text to tell him I loved him and that I was moving out. I think a part of me is hoping he will come back and live with me. We can start over and be the brother and sister we never got to be thanks to our declining mother. My hopes were quickly crushed when he responded on my way into work, saying, "Good for you, K." That was it. Just a couple of words to remind me my brother is gone and not just because we have miles between us, but he is gone altogether from his past!