So, I am still continuing my other story. Right now, though, this is a book that I wrote two years ago. Still to this date it was my best idea yet. Then last year my mother's computer crashed and I lost it... all. I was on like chapter 24, too ): So I've gotten the idea to re-write it. I was actually not going to post it on YWS because this is so sensitive to my heart since most of it is out of experience, I'm like a mother about it. I pushed away my fears and decided to let you all read it. (:
Introduction.
Nichole McWindle slammed the door shut of her mother’s pearl white Chrysler with all the force in her long arms, trying to calm herself in the leather seat. She could hear the drunken, frustrated sigh escape her mother’s dry lips at her daughter’s over-dramatic actions. The air even smelt of liquor, empty bottles leaving behind a grotesque smell. At this moment Nichole could have cared less, she was too distracted by her redundant anger to even think about reasoning with her mother. After years of the same repetitive habits, Nichole was giving up on her mother. She was giving up on ever finding hope that one day, her mom would stop.
“Next time, you should try huffling.” Her mother slurred the wrong word, pointing to nowhere in particular and barely concentrating on the road. Nichole laughed to herself at her mother’s mistake, crossing her arms after buckling in. Her lacrosse practice had just ended as it started to drizzle on the Pennsylvania grounds; living on the outskirts of Philadelphia meant farms everywhere, which seemed to attract storms lately.
Nichole looked at her reflection in the window. The rain was coming down heavier at this moment and the skies were becoming a grayish-black. When Nichole had to be around her mother when she was drinking made her think. It made her think about her past, about the hurt she’s been through, and how much she wanted to escape it. Unlike many families with an alcoholic parent, Nichole didn’t have another parent to go to. She wasn’t even able to leave the house since she didn’t have a car when her mother would start blaming things on her. So many times her mother would blame her for silly things, like her mother losing her job. Nichole’s mom had been drinking so much in the past few months, it was hard for her to ever picture her mother sober again.
Nichole learned to keep her mother’s drinking a numbness in her life; she never let it get to her as much as it really should. Nichole’s mother had been drinking ever since her father had left them many years ago, having enough with his wife’s drinking habits. He now lived somewhere in Florida with his ’better-than-thou’ wife and their two daughters: Amie and Missy. Nichole couldn’t help but to roll her eyes at the names. Amie was a prissy fourteen year old and her six year old sister wasn’t any different.
“Do you know the next time Amie and Missy are visiting?” Nichole turned to her mother who was singing along with the radio. “Mom?” she repeated after a few seconds of silence.
“What do you want?” she shot quickly, looking glossy eyed at her seventeen year old daughter.
“Do you know next time Amie and Missy are visiting?” Nichole repeated, turning the radio down. Before she could even remove her hand, her mother slapped it and turned the radio back up.
“No, and don’t touch my radio again!” she snapped, murmuring under her breath.
Nichole wanted her mother back, the one who cooked with her and made home-made videos with her. Who looked forward to taking Nichole out with her and making silly jokes.
‘It’s been so long.’
Nichole looked back at her reflection to see a solemn tear travel down her cheek, slowly leaving a black trail line behind it from her makeup. Nichole felt her heart ache, at any second they could come. Nichole never cried. There were times when she wanted to, but she couldn’t bring herself to let the salty tears fall. Her mother’s drinking shouldn’t be anything new, why was it effecting her so much now? She swore to herself that would be the last time she’d cry over her mother’s alcoholism.
“Mom?” Nichole turned, her mother was trying to look at the screen on her buzzing phone. A wall of brown hair fell in between them but Nichole could still see her blue eyes that were not even near fixated on the road. "Watch the road!" Nichole burst, afraid of swerving off the slippery lane.
“Oh, hush!” Her mother spat, flickering her eyes up at the road and back down again. “I think work called me.” The phone buzzed again and this time Nichole’s mom removed her other hand as well to press the ‘talk’ button. The car started to swerve and Nichole, heart racing faster than a cheetah, grabbed the wheel but it was too late.
“Mom!” She screamed, shielding her eyes. The last thing Nichole saw were two bright headlights before everything went black.
