A Nonfiction, For Class

My mind wonders back to when I was younger. Seven I think. My mom had run out of beer. This was a time when she was getting worse at hiding from me and dad was at work all the time. The 7-11 was just down the street so she decided to just walk. I was eager to pick out some yummy candy. My legs pumping as I practically ran circles around her waiting for the traffic to stop. Finally it did, speeding in front of my mom I walked onto the road. Suddenly I felt a tight pain around my neck as my body jerks back off the ground and my mom’s hand gripped me. I saw a car as it jumped up onto the curve were I was just seconds before. In a flash they were gone down the road. My mom’s protective hand still holding. Her mouth spewing out harsh and ugly words that dad had told me was a “no, no”. This memory pains me to think about. I loved my mom, I really did, but after she snapped I’ll always feel a burning distrust towards her. I was nine and it was Halloween. Mom was at my aunt’s. I actually have no idea what I was maybe a vampire. I had the fangs but glittery white wings and a white wedding gown. My long blonde hair flying wild and high.We pulled up into my aunt’s drive way. The atmosphere around the house was dark. I felt uneasy when we knocked on the door. My mom answered, looking demonic. Alcohol rolled off her in pungent fumes. I hid behind my dad afraid. In a flash of screaming and action my mom attacked my dad. Pinning him to the ground. Punching him in the face over and over again. Screaming at him to give her more money. My dad yelled at me to call 9-11. I ran inside tears blurring my path as I got the phone. I was going to call 9-11 but I didn’t know how. I was afraid they wouldn’t help.I went to my aunt but she was asleep or in other words ignoring me. At that point I was desperate so with all my nine year old anger I ran back out side, the phone still gripped in my tiny hands.I yelled and screamed with all my might at my mom to get off my dad or I would bash her head in with the phone. That I would kill her if she didn’t stop. Now it makes me sick that I was so violent and angry at such a young age. That provoked I was willing to kill my own mother.Luckily I did not resort to that because dad pushed her. We took off. That was the last time I ever saw her, screaming at us with such rage and hatred, the mom who saved my life held me close and told me she loved me, that I vowed never to drink or be around alcoholics again. Go hard or go home...