Short stories

This is home

I remember the way my mother would would braid my hair in the mornings before I went to school. How she would sing songs about love and hope whenever got scared or sick. Her voice was beautiful and gentle, like rain in  spring time. I really wouldn't mind hearing it once again.

I remember how my father would kiss my forehead and tell me how he loved me so much in the mornings before he started work. He would always smile even though sometimes were hard on him, like the time when his mom died. I never met grandma, but dad told me how she was really nice and smart.

I remember how my life was so amazing and how my parents loved me. But as I got older, a lot of stuff started to come to light and I no longer felt like my family was so great.

At the age of 12, my dad would come home late every night drunk out of his mind. My mom tried to help but nothing would work. Her and dad have been fighting for the longest time. After 7 months of fighting, she had enough and left. Not even telling me bye or how much she loved me.

Dad just got worse and worse by the passing days. I did nothing about his addiction because I didn't have a clue what to do.

I was tired of being forgotten and unloved so I decided that it would be easier to kill myself then living in this house that I call my home.

As I take my last breath, I jump off the stool that was holding my weight. I can feel my air get cut off, slowly but surely I start to see darkness and before I die I think to myself....

                     This is home.