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I lifted the clear glass bottle, and set the warm opening to my lips. The liquid poured into my mouth, washing my tongue with its bitter taste. I swallowed the disgusting liquid, it burned my throat as it slipped down. It was gross, but I was used to it.
The ones who knew me, asked why I was drinking. I didn’t want to tell them, it was my business. I just told them that I liked it, and I did.

I heard the cheap car pulling into the cracked driveway. I scrambled up, twisted the cap back on the bottle, and put it back in the case. Quickly, I made my way to the kitchen for a coke. I also grabbed my minty gum, to hide my bitter breath. If she knew I was drinking, there would be hell to pay.

I didn’t want to hear her pointless yelling, so I sauntered my way to my room. I liked to stay out of sight, not just at home, but at school too. I didn’t want anyone to know my bitterness. I was bitter all the time, just like my mom.

I didn’t want to be like her. An alcoholic, a mean drunk, a whore! But it was too late. I was already an alcoholic. But the vodka understood me. It listened to me, and it didn’t judge. It also knew my pain.

“Amelia! You lazy a**! Get out here and clean the kitchen, its a mess!” Her yelling pierced through the whole house. She annoyed me, made me mad. Half the time I wanted to punch her in the face. But every time I came close, I chickened out. She was drunk all the time, so it would do barely any damage, and then she’d hit me.

I walked into the kitchen, it was dirty, and somebody had to do it. That somebody was me. “Why the hell you let it get so dirty! Your so lazy, you need to do work here too you know!” She was pissing me off once again. She was such a hypocrite, I do all the work, and all she does is sit around drinking and watching television. Either that, or go to her boyfriend’s house. She had a new one every week. Hell, she didn’t even have a job. Her money came from the government to help support me, but that money wasn’t used on me, it was for her drinks and her smokes.

She yelled at me while I cleaned the dishes. Every so often she’d pick one up and yell at me, saying it wasn’t clean enough. But finally she got thirsty. She left, and I quit.

Another sip felt so much better, it was what I needed. She was gone again, to Jim’s or Phil’s, or probably some new guy. Who cares, I sure didn’t. I gulped it all down. I was feeling depressed again. The worst part about my feelings is nothing ever brings them up, I just feel them, and it sucks.

More and more drinks, they helped. When I got drunk, I felt nothing. I was numb, and it was the greatest.

I didn’t want to over do it. I would just get buzzed, then I would stop.
I got sleepy. I never sleep, my dreams were unpleasant, and they were the same every time i closed my eyes. It had been like this for a year, since I had met him.

My eyes were heavy, and I couldn’t keep them lifted any longer. I drifted off into my dreams... Or should I say nightmares.

I dreamt of him once more. We were holding each other, like we always did. When I was in his arms, there was no feelings of depression, there was no sorrow, sadness, no pain. The only feelings were happiness. In his arms, there only seemed to be me and him, the time had stopped. He made all my worries and problems go away. He had been the one thing in my life that had ever brought on these feelings that I cherished. I was in bliss. I never drank while we were together- which was almost all the time- because I didn’t need to.

I was happy. How dare I feel that way! I was never meant to be happy. If I were to ever feel happy, it should be taken away from me immediately!

I was at school, all the classes I didn’t have with him were the worst. I never thought he would do this, I thought he felt the same. When I saw him with that slut, his hands caressing her face, like he would do for me, macking her, it hurt. We argued that night. He told me that he had fallen out of love with me, and back in love with another girl, someone easier, and of course, someone prettier.

I was so numb. I didn’t know how to feel feelings anymore. My happiness was destroyed, all that was left was pain. But this wasn’t like any other pain. The pain I had felt was like a million knives slicing through my skin, while guns were fired at me, blasting through me. I worked so hard to reject that pain, that I had gone numb. There were no more feelings to feel. I was numb. I was completely emotionless.

I woke up, tears welled up in my eyes. They slipped down my face, I didn’t know how to make them stop.

My dream was a very accurate reenactment of what had really happened a year ago, when I was fourteen. They all say time heals all wounds, but they lied. My wounds were so deep, that they wouldn’t heal. My wounds would just get infected and slowly kill me.

Death sounded nice. Thinking of death made me think of Hell. How would Hell be for me? Hopefully better than Earth had been for me. I only hoped, because that would be the place I would go, when I died.

I believed in God, for a while, that is. Eric was a Christian, he was the one that temporarily converted me. I always thought he was a good guy, when I was with him. He was someone who would make me better than who I am. But he wasn’t a good guy. He left me, forgot about me, cheated on me. At first I blamed myself, I chased him off. I soon came to the conclusion that he was an a** face, and a liar. He was someone that would make girls fall in love with him, only to crush their hearts. The only thing I blamed myself for was the worst part, giving him the power to crush me. After him, I swore to never give anyone that power again.