Perfect Storm

1- Tawny

There's always a reason why you meet people. Either it's because you need to change your life, which I think I have to do. Or it's because you're the one that will change theirs.

Me?

Could I be the one to change someone else's life?

Yeah right.

As much as I've tried, I can't even change my father's life.

Maybe by going out with my friends tonight, I'll meet my knight and shining armor that'll save me from this terrible nightmare I've been dealing with for nearly two years. Well, if you were to include my dealing with my mother's depression, then the hell I've been living in has been for about ten years.

I finished preparing my father's spaghetti, tossed it onto a plate, then sighed before bringing him his dinner.

It's been one of those days where everything I do, nothing pleases him. And I'm pretty sure it has to do with me finding him passed out on the floor in the living room last night and taking that golden opportunity to search his bedroom—looking for "the shit." Besides finding his stash of marijuana, I found what I suspected he'd been doing—cocaine, amongst other drugs. However, I wasn't sure of everything I found hidden throughout his room. I just knew they were drugs, and that I had to get rid of them.

I'm not sure if I found it all, but the drugs I did find. I flushed down the toilet. And how my father's been acting today. I think I missed some of the drugs. So. Either he's pissed at me for finding his shit and getting rid of it, he's going through withdrawals, or he's tweaking—like he had done some meth.

As much as I would love to think it's him going through withdrawals, I know better and know that it's because he is tweaking...

There's no greater pain than watching and taking care of the one you love—love their drugs more than you. I know my father loves me, but time after time, he's also proven to me that it's the drugs he loves more.

And that hurts...

"Where are you going?" My father asked, his eyes jumping from side to side as he watched me enter the living room with a glass of water and his plate of food.

"Out," I quietly said, setting his dinner down on the coffee table in front of him.

He reached and grabbed my hand, then pulled me to him. "Please don't leave me here alone tonight."

I rolled my eyes. "Why?"

With panic in his eyes, he said, "I've been hearing voices for the last couple of hours, and it's freaking me out."

Voices.

My mom heard voices all the time, too.

Great.

I held my father's stare and studied his eyes. They were glossy, his pupils were dilated, his face was flush, and his hand holding mine was jittery. Yep. I missed a stash. And that's what he was doing when he locked himself in his bedroom earlier. "Maybe if you'd quit putting that harmful shit in your body, you'd be normal," I scolded, removing my hand from his. "You also wouldn't be hearing voices."

"Tawny, please. Don't leave me here alone."

Nope.

Not tonight. A year and a half it's been since I've gone out to have any fun; I can't give in to my father. Besides. Why should I stay here with him anyhow? It wouldn't matter if I'm here or not; he'll continue doing what he's been doing, anyway.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "I'm going out with my friends, whether you beg me to stay home or not. Because I've been stuck here for months taking care of you, I need this night to get away, to relax, and to regain my sanity. Hanging out with my friends is something I haven't done in forever. So, I'm owed this night out without you trying to make me feel guilty."