Authors Note: Hey, my first story here, so I only request you to be as sincere as possible, because, honestly? This looks like crap :/ Your reviews will meant the world and I will be delightful If I could receive some of your appreciations (:

Disclaimer: Don’t own them, (unfortunately) and it never happen.

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“Hey, Mike! Wanna hang out, after school? We could all go see a movie or something…”

“…And obviously by saying ‘movie’, he meant sweet, fine ladies, right Brad?”

“Yeah, Robert, sure…Whatever you say, man…”

This conversation took place at my school’s parking space, where one of my best friends, Brad, had his car parked…somewhere. We’re still trying to figure that mystery, since Brad is terrible with remembering his own stuff, especially his car, his baby, his pride. Geez, I’ve never seen a guy so preoccupied with his car, a superficial object, more then his life! He seriously has some issues, but I’m not going to be the one to point that out, oh no. I already did that once, when I was such a naïve boy and unaware of Brad’s temperament that my neck was almost broken that time.

And all because I told him Britney Spears looked better when she was younger.

Sometimes I wonder why am I still friends with him…

“So Mike, are you in?” Brad asked, interrupting my sudden and pointless thoughts, with a hint of impatience in his voice. Unfortunately, as much I wanted to go out with my friends for a change, I just had to refuse it. And worse then that, lie to them, too.

"Uhm, I’m sorry guys, I can’t. I have to…study, you know, exams and such…” I tried to keep my voice confident, but I just couldn’t. I mean, is she so important in my life that I have to plan lies to tell them? Is she so influential in my life, in my ‘oh-so angst’ teenager’s years? Of course she is. After all, she is my mother, as much as her parenting skills suck; she’s still from my blood. Sacrifices, I guess.

And why do I say that?

Because she’s a drug-addict, that’s why. Wasting life and opportunities of finding a job to support us, the family, is what she can do the best. Her negligence towards me should change, she should at least show that effort, instead of putting everything in a 17 year old back who is still finishing school and fighting for some stability in the future and perhaps becoming what he always wanted to be: an architect.

But no. My dreams and aspirations had to wait, because my goal now, it was to prevent my mom to commit something that she would regret for the rest of her life, like suicide, or mysteriously disappear through the woods, and find her body 5 days later, floating in the river. I’m not going to say that I hate her, that she’s the worst burden that ever happen to me; well, she is a burden; although I can’t hate her. I couldn’t hate her. It’s genetically impossible to me. It’s like one of those diseases you can’t get rid of, like cancer, leukemia… Yeah, I shouldn’t compare my inexplicable love for my mother like this, but, yeah, you get the point…somehow. It’s just…strange. Technically, she didn’t caused any harm to me, ever. She just deprived me to have from having a normal social life with the people I cared about, never allowing me to go and ‘have some fun’, to express my so wanted freedom. You’ll probably understand my sorrow, by now.

So, I politely refuse all the desperate invitations, along with some complainings that I didn’t enjoyed they’re company anymore or that I studied too much, that I pretty much needed a break and ‘get loose’, and ran from the parking lot, trying to ignore their questions, callings, many sort of things.

As faster I went, I could almost smell the intoxicating sense of marijuana coming from my unclean kitchen. Luckily, where I live, is really close from where I study, so the noises coming from Rob and Brad soon were gone. As I opened the front door, I quickly recognise the figure passed out in the hall, with an expression full of tears and exhaustion that scared me deeply. My heart dropped. Her eyes were fully closed, transmitting me the loneliness she’d been through while I was gone, her mouth open, all wet from the excess of impure (and possibility illegal) substances. Her image was unbearable for me to assist.

“Mom, are you okay? Answer me!” My voice trembled, hitting such high notes, which showed my terror in that moment. The thought of losing her was painful, unthinkable… She did cause this to herself… But, that means that she has to pay her life for it?

“Michael? Is that you?”

My vision lifted from my curved position and my terrified, scared eyes made contact with hers, emptiness all over them, made my spine shiver. This was the worst state I ever found her before, this time she really pushed the limit. Someone had to come to her senses, before it was too late.

“Yeah, mom! You almost died, what the hell? You have to stop scaring me like that, geez! That’s it, I’m going to take you to a specialist and then...”

“NO! I don’t need help, I’m fine! Did you hear me? Fine!”

Her voice sounded like a thunder to my ears, because of its powerful, demanding force that made me weak in my knees, for only one reason: fear. This was definitely the first, I never feared my mother when she was high, which, apparently was all the time. She always assumes this posture of being soft, carefree, who doesn’t give a damn about the world, about anything, not even about herself. Although, her expression indicated that she was furious, pierced look penetrated into my own, sending waves, almost…of hate.

“Mom? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t you see, Mike?? Everything is wrong, in this house, in my life! I’m sick of this misery, this…loneliness! It’s not fair, Mike, it’s not fair…”

She started crying, while dropping her knees in the cold, hard floor, with a loud thud, tears running through her soft skin, directed to the red fluffy carpet, next to her limp body. I couldn’t find my voice; I was so lost in words. My heart screamed for me to comfort her, hug her and show that life was worth living, that not everything was lost and most importantly, that she wasn’t alone; but my brain froze, unable to get any type of reactions, so I just stood there. Seeing one person very close to me, being in that excruciating suffering made me feel limp myself.

“Mom…you’re not alone, I’m here, alright? I’m not going to abandon you, like dad did…”

She stood up, that expression of anger raising again (to my despair), along with her right hand at the level of my face, looked at me with that look as if I was the bad guy, as if it was my fault she was in this miserable state and said “Don’t. You. Ever. Mention. His. Name. Again. Do you understand me? Ever.”

How could she defend him like that? After all we’ve been through because of his mistakes? “But Mom, he left us when you were pregnant, you were all alone, he just dumped you, nevertheless, and you still defend that son of a…”

The sentence was never finished, since I felt a warm hand hitting my left cheek with such strength that I never felt before in my life. Blood spread all over my mouth, wetting my lips in the process and I wipe it off with my unoccupied hand, while the other was resting in the damage cheek. I looked at her, with the most confused expression and she look back, but I no longer saw anger.

I saw disappointment.

And with words as soft and smooth as the own wind, she said: “Get out of my house. And don’t need to come back, ever again. Forget that you even have a mother.”

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