1983, Age 13

“Marissa! What is wrong with you! Come here before I lose it again! I shouldn’t have to shout all the damn time!” My mother is one with alcohol. I’ve never been afraid of her, only afraid of her words. She is strong, but she knows not to hurt me physically. 

My small feet were striking the ground as I ran towards her, unknowing of what I’ve done wrong. I slowed down and she looked down right in front of my face. My nose tingled at the scent of the sour whiskey on her breath. “You left that dumbass dog outside again and now he’s run away. I swear to god I’m going to kill you if you don’t start taking more responsibility with your crap.” I stood there silent as she stumbled away, back to her seat in the living room, next to the brown stains on the orange carpet and right under the shaky ceiling fan. As soon as she sat down, she groaned and smacked her head against her hand. When my dad was around, mother was not as bad. She combed my hair and prepared me food, she treated me like a daughter. I long for those days to come back, I would do anything for another moment with my dad. 

After reminiscing, I turned around and opened the trailer door looking for Lucy. “Lucy! Lucy!” I yelled. I waited a second before stepping outside. The door slammed behind me and I started walking straight towards the tree-covered jungle that sat behind our trailer park. 

I found Lucy about six years ago in these woods. My dad helped me find her. She was pawing around alone and ownerless. As soon as I saw Lucy, I knew I wanted to take her in. It took a couple of days for mother to say yes, for she never wanted a dog in the house, but she eventually caved in when my dad told her I would take care of Lucy. They argued a lot about things, I never knew what though. Lucy helped me through it. When I heard shatters of glass on the ground Lucy would be right next to me, wiping away my tears and nestling up to me. Every once in a while, my mother kicks her out of the trailer for sleeping in the wrong places and eating some of our food. When mother wakes up from her drunk, she screams at me for letting Lucy out. I get a feeling of misery whenever she does this, sometimes I think a part of my dad is living in Lucy and she is always there for me in the bad times. But it doesn't matter anymore, mother told me my dad will never come back and he is not living in Lucy. 

“Lucy! Where are you girl? Your mommy is here now!” I kept calling out to her as I ended up further and further in the woods. My heart is pumping and my hands are shaking, not knowing if I’ve lost my one love in life. I turn on an angle and see that wonderful white and black dotted tail wagging around between the dark trees. But what was she doing? It looked as if she was hovering over something. Someone? 

My curiosity was killing me. Instead of calling her over, I walked towards her to check out the situation. As I got closer, I saw her nose near something like that looked like a hand. My heart stopped and my hand slapped over my mouth as I gasped and cried out in tears when I saw a pale, lifeless face of a man. “Lucy, get back!” I yelled as I crept even closer. My entire body was quaking as I peered over the man. There was a pool of blood about an inch around his body. He had wounds of what looked like a knife in his chest, stomach, head, and arms. I got a flashback of my dad, looking over him as he lay on the steps on the trailer, soulless, and gone. I grabbed Lucy and ran at the speed of light out of the woods. I ripped the trailer door open and slammed it shut behind me, turning the knob on every lock on the door. I could not fathom what I have discovered. Who was that man? And who in their right mind could have killed him? I looked over at mother, now passed out on the couch, should I tell her what I saw? 

The thought bubbled in my mind, but I decided to leave it alone for now until I calmed down. 

1981, Age 11

A shriek pierced my ears as I shot out of bed, awoken from my slumber. It was midnight. I did not hear my parents arguing anymore so I ran out of my room trying to locate where it came from. Outside I decided. As I ran to the door, I saw a figure through the window of the trailer door. I pulled it open and froze as I saw mother standing over my dad’s body. The light outside of the door cast a shadow over my dad. I looked down in shock at him and noticed a gash in his neck and blood dripping down from his head. He was not breathing. His skin was snow pale and his eyes were rolled back into his head. The gore of the scene caused me to gasp, struggling to find air. My soul left my body and I was struck with fear. “Dad?” I managed to get out in between breaths. The tears came streaming down my face and I fell right beside him. “Dad, can you hear me? Please don’t go” Tears were pouring down my face and on his lifeless body. Mother, still standing over him, took a couple of steps back and looked at me. “We should put him in the woods now.” As she said this, her eyes darted at me. They were cold and dull. “What do you mean? We have to call someone! Mom please!” But she had already begun. She grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the eerie trees. “What are you doing mother?” I called. Mother looked back at me and exclaimed, “What I have to.” She turned around and continued to drag him until they weren’t visible anymore. I could not process anything that just happened. All I know is that this is when the abuse of alcohol kicked off. 

1983, Age 13

It’s been one day since I’ve found the man. His face still haunts my mind and I discovered that I needed to tell mother. 

But something else was pondering in my mind. When I looked at the man, I remembered my father from that night. His face, my mother, the shriek, the blood. These thoughts filled my brain and I decided I needed to finally ask my mother what happened to my dad that night before I went back into those woods. 

I had never summoned the courage to ask her, I thought she would hurt me, or worse. 

As I approached her, the question popped into my mind, Would she hurt me? I stopped and froze. Is this a good idea? Mother has not been in a stable mental state since the night when my dad died. It’s as if she wants to escape from her reality every day. I never really knew why. 

I looked down at Lucy and she stared at me as if she could hear what I was thinking. I thought back to the times of the arguments and anger that filled this house when my parents talked. I remembered how scared Lucy and I were. A burst of frustration came over me, and I decided enough was enough. I walked up to her on the couch. Laying down, she questioned, “What do you want?” 

“I need to ask you something, it’s about dad.” As soon as the words left my mouth, she perched herself up on her elbows, intrigued, and waiting for me to go on. 

“How did he die?” 

She sat there silent for what felt like an eternity. Her eyes darting around everywhere possible as if she was looking for an answer. Looking away, she asked, “Why do you want to know?” I looked into her cold, dull eyes. She was completely dead inside. I realized at this moment that she never felt grief or remorse for anything, especially when dad died. It’s like she never cared about me anymore, it didn’t matter if I died either. A wave of anger fell over me and I blurted out, “Because he was my dad, and before he died you were normal, what happened between you guys? And why don’t you put those drinks down ever! I’ve been sitting alone, waiting for my REAL mother to come back, and all I get is an alcoholic that’s left.” I took a step back, amazed at what I had just said. I flinched, expecting her to get up and hit me. But she didn’t, she just sat there silently. No emotion, no facial expressions, just silent. 

Her sunken face looked at me, “I didn’t mean to, it was an accident.” What? I turned stone cold. “I asked what happened.” 

“That night, the night that your father died, we were having a bitter argument. I pushed him around and yelled. He yelled back. I was just done with everything, I was done with him. I had multiple drinks in me and couldn’t think clearly I swear. I opened the front door and pushed him down. He hit his head hard on the railing of the stairs in front of the door and the corner of one of the stairs pierced his neck. He told me to go and help but I could not move. I didn’t understand anything. Everything was dizzy and blurry. And he just...passed. Then a couple of days, ago one of your father’s old friends came over. He was walking through the woods and noticed your father’s clothes from where I left his body. He came here and accused me of murder so I just had to get rid of him! I can’t go to jail!” She started crying and asking for my forgiveness but I could not move. I could not speak. I slowly backed away from her. 

Mother is a murderer.

I grabbed Lucy, turned, and ran out the door. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I wanted to throw up and cry at the same time. How can I live with someone who took the only person that loved me away? 

The pieces came together in my mind and I understood now. The man in the woods was my father’s friend. 

I didn’t know how long Lucy and I ran for. All I know is that I could never go back home. 

1986, Age 16

It has been three years since I’ve been to that trailer. I’ve been living with my dad’s sister and her husband for a while now. I don’t know what happened to my mother. Sometimes I like to think she drank herself to death, sometimes I secretly wished she would come looking for me. Nevertheless, I knew I needed to leave. It took Lucy and I a while to find a home, but we finally found somewhere I am not living in constant fear and neglect.