Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Runaway


by Drowning_in_Irony 1 review

"I did the only thing I could, I ran away."

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: G - Genres:  - Published: 2012-06-22 - Updated: 2012-06-22 - 556 words

Here's the prologue for everyone! The Point of View in this story will most likely jump around, so, you'll be able to tell who's POV it is by their name bolded and italisized at the beginning.



Everyone lives differently. Some have it all—the money, the fame, people who admire and worship them. Some people are in the middle class. They've got just enough to live comfortably—a nice family, a cozy, moderately-sized house, a warm bed to sleep in at night. And then.... there are people like me who literally have nothing. No nice picture-frame-worthy family, no cozy house, no money...and a worn mattress on the floor covered by a few sheets instead of an ideal bed.

Sure, you try to turn things around. You get a job to try and pay the bills, even though you’re only sixteen, but where does that go? It goes and feeds your “dearest” mother’s alcohol obsession. You tell her to go and get help, and what does she do? She throws a damn bottle of cheap champagne at your head, or well, tries to at least. In her drunken rage, it’s not surprising that her aim isn’t exactly up to par.

That’s how I’ve been living since my dad died a few years ago. You usually hear about car accidents or fires, but a tree limb falling and brutally crushing poor daddy while on his routine jog? Not so much. Mom pretty much went downhill after that. She couldn’t take the pitiful stares she got at work, so she resigned. And then came the late nights at dusty low-rate bars. After that came the full-blown alcoholism. But what can you do? Tell her to stop? Like I said before, tried and failed.

And before you go thinking, “oh, don’t you have any brothers or sisters to help you out?” I do, as a matter of fact. Three, though their all past 20 and have families of their own. No time to stop and ask, “Oh, Danni? How are you doing? Are you and mom okay?” Yeah, we’re fine and dandy! It’s not like we’re running short on money and our mother is coming pretty damn close to getting alcohol poisoning!

Okay, so, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit there. My brother did ask me if I wanted to move in with him, but I told him I needed to look after mom. At that time, a few years ago, I couldn’t bear to leave my intoxicated mother alone just for her to drown herself in her never-ending misery or to open the door to Mr. Jack Daniels every time he comes ‘round.

Now, though? I’ve had enough. I’ve come to realize that I can’t save my mother. I can’t take care of her and myself anymore. I’ll end up killing myself from stress and exhaustion. So, I did the only thing I could, I wrote a note to my mother for her to, hopefully while sober, find, along with some money and the number to Alcoholics Anonymous, on the broken coffee table. I packed what little I had, and marched straight out the door, searching for a chance at building my life back up to what it once was.
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