Home Sweet Home
By: DW (Guest Blogger)
Creeping in step by step. Sleepless, drunken breath weighs heavy in the morning air. It was a habitual war zone between sin and moral decency that robbed me of a “home sweet home.”
The pollution of red Solo cups scattered in rivers between the poisoned bodies across my living room floor; a maze I was destined to face every Monday morning.
The comfort of my bed used up by heaping strangers. My brothers – my mother – unconscious from a struggle against a ping pong ball and a pyramid of poison.
Every innocent inch of that creaking duplex taken up by the “mistakes” of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night.
My drowsy body curled upon the surface of a single dining room chair; finding salvation in the inch of cushion that rested below me. My heart, praying the mercy of God would wake me in time for school
A scared nine-year-old girl closed her eyes once more to the surrender of the life she was provided.
The story written here is solely the work of the author’s. Any use or reproduction of this article is prohibited without written consent of the author or credit to the author through works cited.