CHAPTER 1: Innocence
My name is Chloe, and this is my story.
I was born in downtown Detroit. I had a loving family from the very beginning, I went to kindergarten, I had a lot of friends, everything was going alright. As soon as I turned twelve I started realising what was going on in my family, we were having huge economic issues. Dad worked as postman and mom was unemployed by that time, so we couldn't pay the house rent. Dad had to work double-turn, and quite often I could hear my mom and my dad arguing because sometimes dad came home with lots of money and he did not want to tell mom where he got it from. That was just the beginning. Every single week they argued about the same thing. However, mom was not sure what to do because thanks to whatever dad was doing, the bills where all paid in time. But everything was bound to explode.
We hanged there, in that situation for around two years. Then, mom found out. She found a huge fridge hidden in the basement, behind the stairs. Inside the fridge were several trays of a frozen blue-sky coloured liquid. Dad was not home, it was only mom and me. After looking in the internet what that could be and thinking what dad was doing with it we came to a conclusion. And we were right. Dad was a drug dealer. More specifically, a methamphetamine dealer. And not just that, he was also an addict. We found two little bags of crushed crystal under his bed. Mom thought of leaving him, but she was not sure what to do. One day, drove by anger and fear, she told dad. I was upstairs and I could hear the whole conversation. -You do not get to stick your nose in my f***ing business. If I go down, you all go down with me -dad said. I could hear mom crying loudly and dad was just screaming at her. All of a sudden, I heard the door shut, and everything was silence then. I came down, and there was my mother, sitting and crying, dad had left. I just sat there with her for hours, saying absolutely nothing. I was a kid, I didn't really understand the magnitude of the situation, so I did not know what to say. The following weeks were horrible, and things got way more serious. Dad always came home high and sometimes while arguing I could hear him hit mom. I just couldn’t be at home anymore, so everytime I could, I went out with my friends. However, I didn’t realise they were also part of the problem. They offered me weed every now and then and I just wanted to forget what was happening at home for a moment so I always accepted. After some time, it wasn’t just an every-now-and-then thing, it was an everyday thing. Dad wasn’t the only addict at home. I wasn’t aware of what that would bring to our family. I moved from weed to crack. It was stronger, it made me feel better. I didn’t cry anymore when I heard the arguments, I was just thinking of what else could I smoke to get high.
CHAPTER 2: Experience
I turned 16, and everything was just more of the same. Until one day, the day. The day dad was arrested. It was late at night. I was smoking, as always, when I heard a loud bang at the door. -DEA! - I heard a man say. I quickly hid the drugs, I thought they were looking for me for a moment, but they weren’t. There was no shooting, thank God. I jumped off the bed and I ran to the door. There was dad, handcuffed, on the floor. And I saw two DEA agents charging the fridge into a huge van. I didn't cry, neither did mom. I don’t know if that was because I was high or just because I was actually happy they caught him. I think it was both.
Now, all of that remains just as a vague memory in my mind. I’m an adult now, and I have a daughter. We live in the same neighbourhood that I lived in when I was a child. I went to rehab for more than 8 years, and I’ve been clean ever since. Dad is still in prison by now and mom very now and then comes visit me and Lizzie, just to check if everything is going OK. Mom and I both want Lizzie to do good, and not follow the same path my dad and I took.
I can’t keep an eye on Lizzie every single moment of each day, and there is a lot of drug dealing here in Detroit. In addition, I’ve never liked Lizzie’s friends, because they are just like my friends were.
One day, I came home from work earlier than expected, I found out that Lizzie wasn’t home. I thought that she would be at school studying or just hanging out with her friends. I started cleaning the house. I went to her room and noticed that her bed was not made. Just when I picked up the sheets and started making the bed, I found a few little bags of what it certainly was crystal. I picked up everything and placed it in the house entrance.
Around and hour later, Lizzie came. She was surprised that I was already home but she didn’t have time to even ask because she saw all of the drugs I placed right there. She looked at me terrified and started crying. I was, however, very calmed.
I told her to stop crying and listen. Lizzie didn’t know why his grandpa was in prison, I never told her, until now. I explained her everything that happened. The drugs, the fridge, dad, the fights… and in the end I showed her my rehab chip.
She didn’t even try to excuse herself. She is a smart girl and she understood the gravity of the situation.
Since then I am certain that she is clean, she is safe now. And all thanks to what happened to me, I’m glad I could take something good out of that horrible nightmare.
S López, A Castaño, M Zulueta
No comments:
Post a Comment