I hear the laughing. The high pitched drunken laughing. Fear spikes through me. She promised she wouldn't get drunk around me. Didn't she? She walks in and she's swaying and slurring.
I'm on the verge of tears. "Let's go get some food," she slurs. I blink back tears. I have to be strong. "Me and my brother will stay here. We are old enough." This is what I say.
I know we aren't but we aren't old enough to die either. Were too young. She listens to my false reason. Her and my also drunk older twenty-two brother shuffle out the door.
I run to the back porch. Count the bottles. Twelve. I shiver. So scared. Dad. I need to call dad. When the tablet, my tablet, picks up I start bawling. He must be at the casino.
He says he will call the police. I start telling him no. I'm scared so so scared. He soothes me. "You shouldn't have to go through this at eight years old," he says. I hear him dial.
I keep him on the phone, he's coming. Coming to my mothers house. My brother is crying and screaming at me. "She's not drunk!!! She's not!!" But i know she is and I think he knows it too.
The police arrive. Ask me questions. Then my mother arrives. More beer in her hand. My older brother screams at my younger brother. Then my dad gets there. I am hiding behind a door.
I run into his arms, crying. He soothes me and pats me on the back. "It's okay. Ssssh." Noah is already there, pouting. "She's not drunk!" he says but he's crying. I want to leave.
I get in the truck and we drive away. I know I won't see my mom for a very long time. We're silent. But we are all thinking the same thing. What's next?
This is a true story from when I was eight years old. I have never shared it this much in detail. My mom did not get arrested that night. They were taken to the police station it was a month or two before I was able to see her again. This has led to the depression I suffer from currently.