The Disbanders

Chapter 2: My Life

June 2018

It is two o'clock in the morning, according to the flashing neon green digits of my wristwatch, and I am unable to sleep. The town outside my window is still and silent, looking peaceful at this time of night. While the world outside my window with its cracked screen seems to be without spirit, on the other side of it, my side, is a whole other kind of lifeless.

I hear the front door of my house creak open, with the sound of two people stumbling through it, laughing. Great, I think to myself, it's my parents. They're finally home. For years, this has been their routine––coming home late, no earlier than midnight, and staying up all night, often doing more drugs.

For years, my parents have been the mental slaves of drugs, mostly cocaine and methamphetamine. Neither are properly employed, turning drugs into their illegitimate source of income, as well as their way of life. It's gotten them into a dysfunctional downward spiral that is kept inside a crumbling house. Things have been at their worst in the last year. In their minds, since I'm now in high school, their work with me is done.

I am also not simply describing the falling shingles, the chipping wall paint, or the tornado of clutter that lays inside. I mean emotionally. My parents' brains have been fried from years of this lifestyle. They've cut me off from their lives, and have isolated me from nearly everyone else in my life too, including my grandmother.

I haven't seen Grandma since I was eight years old, as I've been banned from seeing her for a reason that is still unknown. They moved houses around that time, so that she wouldn't follow us. My parents have the address written somewhere, but I've never been able to find it. Believe me, I've spent countless hours searching every corner of my house, through a tornado of clutter, in desperation to find it. My grandmother was one of two people that I've always felt I could rely on.

The other person is my aunt Jessica, the one person that I can still count on now. She's a sophisticated, selfless pediatric surgeon with a heart of gold, the polar opposite of her sister––my mother. She often comes to pick me up from home when things with my parents are rough, and takes me to the hospital to spend time with her. She's the one person that my parents haven't stolen from me. They don't even notice half the time when I go off with her. It's when they do notice that I pay the price.

My parents continue to chuckle from the living room, fried out of their minds. The sound of laughter is one I can hardly ever associate with joy anymore, leaving happiness to be a rare feeling for me. With the emotional distance and abuse from my parents, loneliness has never been an unusual feeling for me.

Frustrated, I begin to tell myself––Okay, come on Candice. Fall asleep. I try to drift off, but my mind wanders to dark places. Things are at their worst for me when everything else is quiet and I'm left alone with my thoughts. The constant whirr of my bedroom fan doesn't help either, as it spins rapidly, similarly to my mind.

Giving up, I turn on my lamp and sit up from my bed. I tilt the light to face my wall, which contains a map of my town, Kirkley. I observe it as my eyes wander to the less occupied part of the map. Thousands and thousands of acres of Boreal forest lie there, most of it all being far away from society. In my worst moments, I've often dreamt of leaving everything behind, starting a new life somewhere else. I have many days, almost more often than not, where I'd wish to simply disappear into the woods, almost like a fairytale.

It seems stupid for a teenage girl to fantasize about this sort of thing, so childishly, but the truth is, this has always made me happy in a world of despair. It has let me imagine I'm somewhere else, even for a moment, and even if I know it isn't real at the back of my mind. If nothing else, it gives my heart a moment of pause from the hate that I have come to feel for my parents, who have hurt me the most.