Misfortune -by MekaMouse-

My 15th birthday. The year my dada died. He left me with an unstable mama (sometimes) and a broken family. I felt empty and numb. I need to be big. I need to be strong. I need to be the father, the mother and the protector. I have to fill his shoes. Fill the gap. I was broken. I am broken. The hole he left me in broke me down. It can never be filled. The gaping wound never to be fixed. I break down. I cry. He’s not here. He isn’t going to “pretend” he forgot my birthday and then hug me and cry that I’m getting older. I miss his love.

My 16th birthday. I wake up and my brother and sister give me gifts. My mama falls down the stairs and breaks her ankle. We all panic and get on the phone. I’m crying. I can’t understand anything. She is passing out. My sister holds her and keeps her awake. My brother keeps the dog’s away from her. The ambulance attendants rush out the door of their station and they get there 15mins later. I have to try and get a hold of someone to talk to. To come stay with us kids while she is in the hospital for the next week. She broke four bones, and she needs surgery. I break down. I cry. I am broken.