Crash and Burn Pt 1

"Mum?" I called, as I set my bag down on the floor.

No reply.

"Mum?" I tried again, searching the house.

I reached the kitchen, where a bottle had shattered on the floor. I sighed, and looked around me. A bottle lay on the carpet, where a brown-ish stain had already developed. A couple of cans lay strewn across the dining room.

Accepting the fact that she wasn't downstairs, I headed upstairs, kicking aside some stray cans that lay on the stairs.

Instinctively I turned into my mother's bedroom, somehow already knowing what I would find.

It was the stench of stale vomit that hit me first. That and the sight of over 20 empty beer bottles lying around my mother. Of course, she had passed out long ago. I closed the door, so that Mahew wouldn't find her like that. He was hurt enough, after Dad had walked out on us, leaving Mahew and I with Mum, who had already headed down the path to drunkenness.

Before, it had been quite subtle. She'd come home from work late, staggering through the door complaining of a headache. I wasn't stupid. Neither was Dad. I guess that's why he left.

Now, it was just me and Mahew, and the drunken mess that we called "Mum".

---

Your kids hate you. They're ashamed of you

I slap myself. Of course they hate me. Why wouldn't they? All I've ever done for them is show them how to drink. And I haven't even been able to do that right.

Sunlight streams through a crack between the curtains. My head screams.

Only, I scream for real too.

"Mum?" I hear. "Are you alright?" It's Chelsea. She's breathless from running up the stairs.

I nod, a heavy hand shielding my eyes.

"It's just the light," I find myself croaking. "Go to school."

I see her eye me suspiciously.

I wave her out. "I'll be fine. Just give me a few more minutes and I'll get ready for work."

She shakes her head slightly, before picking up the cans around the bed.

How did the get their?

Don't you remember? A voice taunts me. You passed out yesterday. You drank so much that you passed out.

A voice taunts me.

I see a small shape hiding behind her. It's Mahew.

Look. He's scared of you. And guess what else. It was his birthday yesterday. Yes. You forgot his birthday. You're a horrible mother. You don't deserve to have such wonderful kids. They need someone better.

No! They need me! Don't take them away from me!

I can hear myself whimpering.

Chelsea comes over to my bedside, with a cool cloth. She lays it over my forehead.

I feel everything go black again, as I relish in the coolness that has relieved my aching head.

---

Mahew was sitting at his desk, waiting for Chelsea to tell him that it was time to go to school. He was scribbling down a few things in his diary. He was only 7, yet he had experienced many hurts and pains that a child of that age should never had had to experience.

Tuesday, 16th March, 2005

Mummy woke up with a scream again, he scribbled.

Chels did that thing with the cool cloth again. I want to help Mummy. She's always drinking from those cans. I helped a little bit yesterday. I saw Chels putting all the cloths in the fridge and I asked her what they were for. She told me that they were for Mummy. So I helped Chels with the cloths yesterday.

All the bigger boys at school bully me about Mummy. They say that she's stupid, that she can't do anything. I want to hurt them, but the bigger boys are in Year 6. They'd beat me up, for sure. And I wouldn't want to do anything to that would hurt Mummy even more.

But Mummy doesn't seem to care anymore. She forgot my birthday this yesterday. Chelsea got me this great Lego set, but it just wasn't the same without one of Mummy's cakes. We haven't had one of them in a while.

"Mahew!"

Mahew slammed the book shut and shoved it into his bag.

"Coming!" he yelled, slamming the door shut.

He winced when he heard his mother moan from her room.

He tip-toed down the stairs. "I forgot something. I'll be a minute," he whispered to his sister, as he let his bag slide off his shoulder.

He went back upstairs trying to stay as quiet as possible. He pushed open the door to his mother's room, letting out a slight creak.

"Mummy?" he whispered.

"What?" she barked.

Mahew recoiled. He heard his sister coming up the stairs, probably having heard her raised tone of voice.

"I'm sorry Mummy. I didn't mean to make you angry."

"Go to school, boy."

When Mahew made no move to walk out of the room, she sat up slightly.

"GO TO SCHOOL!" she yelled.

Mahew felt tears in his eyes and turned to run away, only to run into his sister.

She stroked his head. "Sssh. It's ok."

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Just something that I wrote for Health at school. Second installment will come soon