Love is a funny thing. Everyone wants it. Some even live for it, that’s the tricky thing though, not everyone always gets it. No one ever focuses on the bigger picture or the greater problems. In my life, it’s all about love. My mom was destroyed by it. No man seemed to love her love her. My brother, distraught over the loss of a loved girlfriend. My dad finding no hope in his wife and leaving, but never remarrying. And now I am left with the constant fear of getting my heartbroken, of never being loved.
My family hasn’t been the same for a while now. Everyone is broken in their own special way. My dad left when I was ten. My mother was a control freak and tried to control everything that he did. My dad got tired of that and he left. When my dad left , I never really cried about it. Of course, I was sad for a while, but my dad did his fair share of damage to my mother. He was a horrible alcoholic and he acted as if Jack Daniels was his child instead of me. I can’t remember a time in my childhood, when he wasn’t drunk. No memories come to mind, because there really aren’t any. After they separated, my mother went on countless blind dates, trying to find the type of love and the happiness she had felt in the first couple of years with my father. She has found men, but none of them wanted anything more than to sleep with her. My mother was a beautiful woman, big brown eyes, long brown hair. Every detail almost identical to mine, in every way. After around 10 blind dates and all of them being failures, she gave up. I’ll never forget the day that I came home to find my mother lying on the ground in a puddle of her own blood. Her life taken by her own hand.
‘Finally’ I think once the bell rings. ‘School is out! This summer is going to be great.’
My journey to home is short. Only a few minutes.
“Mom! I’m home!” I yell, as I step through the front door.
My eyebrows scrunch in confusion and I call out, “Mom?” again once I reach the kitchen doorway. I silently wait for her reply. When one doesn’t come, I walk over to the adjoining garage to double check to see if she was home. She was always home by the time that I got out of school. It wasn’t like her to not answer me back. Seeing her car parked safely in the garage, I return back inside and head for the kitchen. An unpleasant silence has settled over the house. My mother hated silence. There was barely ever a moment when the house was silent. She always had the radio on or she was singing. There was definitely something wrong. There had to be. Quickly, grabbing a fruit and a bottle of water out of the fridge, I make my way over to the stairs. I had to see if she was in her bedroom.
She could just be napping. This isn’t bad. There isn’t anything wrong. It’s only 3:00. People take naps then, right?
Walking down the hallway, I see the light coming from under the doorway and breathe a sigh of relief.
She’s okay. She’s just sleeping.
I quietly tiptoe over to the door and push it open a crack.
“Mama?” I whispered, stepping through the doorway.
A shrill scream echoed throughout the room. My hand falls from the doorknob and my tiny 13 year old body falls to the floor. A sob escaping my lips at the sight of my mother.
*End of Flashback*
My mother never got what she deserved. She shouldn’t of died at such a young age. After her death, my brother and I were in shreds. We were no longer whole again. I was forced to move in with my dad. My brother left and I haven’t heard from since. It’s been 5 years since then. I’m eighteen now.
For all of my childhood, I never understood why my mother was so worried over love. I couldn’t understand why she was so hurt by it. I get it now though. The feeling of loving someone and knowing that they don’t love you back. It hurts, really bad. Wanting to touch and hold someone, but you can’t because they only see you as a friend and aren’t interested in you.
Once I moved in with my father, I fell into a very deep depression. There were numerous times that I considered suicide. I never wanted to live without my mom. Then I met Zachary Dawson. He became my best friend and he helped me out of my hole of self loathing. I fell in love with him, but I would never tell him. He would crush me and ruin me. Maybe he did love me, as a sister, but definitely Not In That Way....
My name is Cora Smith and this is my story...