Narrative: Final Paper

I didn’t want the big bad people to get me. So I got off the bus and slowly made my way towards my house. My sister and I hid behind each house and ran between the openings. So that the bad people my mommy had been talking about couldn’t see us. I am four years old. Behind one of the houses I saw a pretty butterfly. Then a calico cat came and caught it in his big claws. When I got home I hesitantly went into the house. Mommy was stumbling through the house with her big red eyes and messy hair. She was on drugs. Once upon a time she was that pretty butterfly. Now that cat named heroine cocaine has caught her. She started yelling and as her hand made contact with my left temple mumbling something about how bad I was. I wished for my pretty butterfly back and closed my eyes to endure the pain.

That night my mom decided to throw a party. My sister gets really angry when she throws these kinds of parties. Sometimes the men will take my sister away from our room. I don’t like the way she screams. She tells me to hit the “hairy men” if they try to touch me.

On this particular night my sister and I had a bright idea. We tied sheets together from our bedpost out our window. Then we started to slide down the sheets. About half way down the sheets broke and I landed on my sister on the grass below our window. We played for a long time, outside where no one could yell at us or tell us what to do. I have this kind of habit. I make promises to myself that will make me not be like my mom; or others who have abused me.

At that moment of freedom and peace I closed my eyes and whispered to myself, “I promise that I will feel this again.” As I opened my eyes I saw a look of panic on my sisters face.

“She’s looking for us!” she yelled.

“Why?” I asked not wanting this feeling to go away.

“I don’t know, but we have to hurry.” We ran in the direction of the house. When we got close we realized that almost everyone had left. My sister swore under her breath. “What are we going to do?” I asked, not wanting to get hit by my mother again. We tried to sneak in the house but my mom’s boyfriend, at the time, was sitting on the stairs to our room. My sister swore again, but a little more loudly.

He got up and called for my mom, “They’re back.” He called with a twisted pleasure in his voice.

“You sicken me!” my sister spat in his face. He slapped her across her cheek. I started to cry but she didn’t. she looked him in his eyes, “You’re a disgusting excuse of a man!”
this time my mom hit her. Then I yelled at my mom so she turned and backhanded me. “I promise to never hit my kids.” I thought to myself as I fell to the floor.

About a week later, we silently made our way to our house. I spotted that ugly cat on his way to catch another pretty butterfly. It reminded my of the temptation of drugs, creeping up on people, stealing their life and abusing their kids. “I promise I’ll never do drugs.” I urgently whispered.

“What?” my sister questioned me as if I was crazy.

“Nothing…nothing.” I replied.

“Anyways,” she wiped away her curiosity, “Are you ready?” I looked up and realized we were walking in our back door. There was music playing? My sister and I exchanged glances.

My mom was folding clothes. She wasn’t on drugs! This was a first for a long time. “Mommy?” I asked.

She turned around and I noticed the tears that soaked her cheeks. “You’re going to your aunties house for a while.” She choked.

We cheered and ran to the door as our grandma’s car pulled in the driveway with our aunt in the passenger seat.

It was a long ride to the small town of Myton, UT. It was also a long two weeks that we stayed. One day as my aunt was doing laundry and I was feeling homesick I walked up to her and she looked at me sadly. Almost as if she knew the question I was going to ask. “Auntie Colleen?” I asked, “Can we go home yet?”

She paused and put down the towel she was folding. “sweetie, you’re not going home- never again.”

Wow, I thought, never sure is a long time!

“I promise to never be the big bad person- I promise to never be my mom!”

Through this experience I have learned how drugs in the home affect those around you and those who love you. My mom might have loved me very much, but because of drugs she never got a chance to actually show that. After leaving my mom’s house I have now spent 91/2 years in foster care. My promises have actually gotten me very far. Of course I have not followed them all the way. However I have done a great job. I have felt that freedom again, so many times. Probably due to the fact that I have kept myself from those things that kept my mom trapped and insecure! I am proud to say that I am now in eleventh grade and very happy and successful. I am going to college and that so far is nothing my mom ever did. I am me like I say: no apologies, no regrets!

Shawnie