Just Above the Horizon

I

Author's Note

Hello, this is a short story I wrote a while ago. It's in quite a different genre compared to the ones that I've posted but I hope you guys enjoy it.

This story contains graphic details of addiction to drugs and alcohol. It also has heavy mentions of suicide and abuse. It mentions depression, anger, and a whole host of other things.

THIS IS MY ONE AND ONLY WARNING!

Since this book holds such topics throughout the story, I cannot make a warning for each part since I would be putting trigger warnings in every paragraph.

This is not an easy story to read. If you are uncomfortable with such topics, then I would suggest not reading this story. It's not for the lighthearted audience.

Anyway for those who decide to read the story, I hope you guys enjoy the story, even if it's hard to read. It's my first time writing such a piece so please let me know what you guys think.

Prologue

Sitting at a desk on a Friday night writing a letter to your deceased son probably isn't by any means the best way to spend Friday or any day, really. But, that's what I was doing. Writing a letter to my deceased son. The only son that I had, and my only child. If you're asking, my son killed himself. Yea, I know, really tragic, really traumatic. But that's what happened. My son killed himself when I was 54 years old and he was on the cusp of turning 25. The letter I was writing wasn't anything particularly special in this case, but I made sure to write a letter on his birthday every year. As a remembrance, or maybe to ease my guilt. Probably both. Actually, scratch that, it's definitely because every year on his birthday, I'm reminded of the fact that I'm the one who basically killed him. And, no, it's not out of any sense of misplaced guilt, but the fact that I was the one who ruined him because of my addiction to alcohol and drugs.

For your knowledge, alcohol, drugs, and I have had a very long past. I emphasize the long part since it's really been a part of my life for so many years. Regardless, the mistakes that I made with my son are something that I can't erase. I can't erase what happened. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely wish that I could go back and change everything that happened, but it's not like I can do it. Unless some god in a random manhua comes and reincarnates me into another body which I highly doubt would happen. Regarding the fact I don't think I would be the greatest candidate either.

Well, the only thing I can say to my son is that I'm doing better. That I've been clean for eight years now. It was hard, considering the long and extensive past I have with addiction, but at the very least I've moved on. Somewhat, at the very least. Since I won't ever really move on from my son's death. Because he's my son. Well, I don't know if my son thinks of me as his mother anymore, but in my heart, I'm still his mother. The mother that my son saved.

And yes, my son saved me. Yea, that's kind of weird, but it's the honest truth. Since I wouldn't be where I am today without him. Even if he's dead now. But, he's the very reason I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere. And the very reason, I got help. Truth be told, he's the greatest gift I've ever received in my life, but he was the gift that I took advantage of. The gift that I thought would always be there. And the gift that left me.

Though honestly looking back on it, if I was my son, I would have left much earlier than my son did. Considering he stuck around for an extra, like, six years after graduating high school. So, by any standards, I think you can tell my son was an amazing person.

For any of those who are curious little people, this is my story.