In my last little ‘True story’ I wrote, I talked of a girl named Ashley. She was once a very beautiful tomboy brunette in elementary school. By high school, Ashley was replaced by a girl who is sex- crazed and drug addicted. She tried to get me in trouble, by trying to get me to go to the mall for homecoming tux. I ended up not going, and it was a good decision not to go.
Anyways, this story is about weed/pot (I can’t tell the difference between them.), my dad, and my cousin. Because I hate my cousin so, I’ll use her real name; Hailey.
A cold January afternoon. Returning home from a long day of schoolwork, homework, rushing, and hell. I live in a simple apartment complex, and it’s 5 minutes away from my bus stop. I go through the back of my apartment’s door, and up the stairs to the front, to my apartment. I open the door with my keys, and I go in. Simple, right? Someone’s in the shower, and my dad is up on the couch. He’s been drinking, I can tell. He’s smiling, his eyes are a bit glazier than usual, and he’s laughing at everything. The mystery person in the shower, however, is I believe to be my sister. I think she had to work that day, I THINK she did. I was completely wrong.
A few minutes after getting home, my cousin comes out of the shower. I have no idea why she’s there, but she is. Now, a year ago, I was admitted into a mental hospital. This caused a spark in my whole family. My aunt (on my mom’s side, which Hailey is on) suddenly outlawed me and my dad from her house or near her kids. Hailey still comes over for pot and weed. She’s always done this. I’ve had to watch my stuff and keep my door shut when she was over, because she stole my sister’s nailpolish. It’s stupid, but it’s true. Now there’s nothing but flames, but Hailey coming over just sets the spark alive again in another flare.
Anyways… She comes out and she already look stoned to begin with. Not that I didn’t see that coming, she’s ALWAYS stoned,Â I just was jaw-dropped at the fact she was here before I got home. She could’ve stolen anyone of my things. I started to check over my Art Closet (where I keep my art supplies) and my desk, and then my room. Nothing’s gone… yet. So I sit at my desk in the dining room and stare at the back of her head while she talks to my dad. All of a sudden- “Bluababababababa” …
OH. HELL. NO. Pot had always gave meÂ a very bad migraine, to the point where I collapse to the ground holding my head.Â Dad knows this, whenever he smoked he had to go into the bathroom and then keep the fan on and the door closed for an hour. And here she goes, just right in the living room?! NO.
I grab my bat.
I go to her.
Hold it up over her head until she drops the match, and I snatch at the giant thing whatever it is (I think they call it a ‘bong’?). Put it in the bathroom, grab Hailey’s hair and put HER in the bathroom, yell at my loudest, “NO!!” and slam the door. She opens it. I close it. She opens it. I close it.
The world started to get blurry by then and my head started to hurt. Oh great, here comes theÂ migraines. But somehow I keep trucking through it. Open, close, open, close. She finally keeps it close. I got back to my desk and sat there. She comes out, and again in the living room!
I couldn’t take it.. I wanted her to stop giving me a headache so badlly… All of this was her fault. Why I was like this, why I wanted my dad to get professional help, why my family was split apart.. I remember the pocket knife I was given for Christmas. Blue, one side had a bronzish-looking seashell, and both sides had a picture of wolves.Â I loved wolves, so my mom’s boyfriend gave it to me, it used to be his..
I reached for it, open it… But didn’t. I hid it away for the safety of myself and her. Why the hell did I not do it? I could’ve, and she would’ve been gone. She’s be gone, exactly what I have wanted. But the fact that she’s still my cousin sets me back. Tells me no and makes me just continue to stare at her.
I’m going to sum this up in fastest way I can see fit. After getting my bat again and threatening to hit her again (and did in her arm) she finally stopped. I continued to stare her down from my desk, and she kept away from lighting the bong. My dad and her continued to talk, but I just wanted her gone. I eventually got so pissed at her in my mind I went to bed early.Â Since my room doesn’t have a lock, I used my dad’s old guitar to prop the door shut. She tried multiple times to get in, but each time she failed. I planned to find my BB pistols, and shoot her with BBs. But in the mist of finding them and the now fully developed migraine, I slipped into my bed and fell asleep. In the morning, she was gone.
It felt like the day before was a nightmare.