Here u go Char
At 10 he was fine. At 13 he tried drugs. At 16 he dropped out of school. At 20 he was dead.
Jay had it easy growing up, he was popular always knew the right things to say and when to say it. Everyone who knew him loved him, everyone that didn’t know him wished they did. Schooling was never Jay’s problem, he was average got a few high grades here and there; he never saw what could happen next.
As he blew his candles out on thirteenth birthday one of them stood flickering in the darkness, he never saw the hand that came down on his mother, he just heard her shriek and the thud as the carpet rolled under her weight. He did feel his fathers hand come down on him, it was a blow to Jay’s heart. After that day whenever his dad got angry Jay would end up defending his mother, in the end scars were covering his body that he couldn’t hide them.
It was the night he heard his father tear his mother up - piercing her with lord only knows what - that he had had enough, he wanted out. It was the next day at school he found his escape. The kid’s said it was called grass, nothing too hard for a first timer so he took it. Within a year he was hooked on the feeling of
euphoria so much so he could ignore the paranoia that came with it and the guilt of what he had left his mum in, but he knew there was no help for her now, no escape for her and that he should move on. He soon found the others were hiding from him. His old friends were keeping there distance, making sure they didn’t get in his way only she stuck by him, listening and helping.
When he turned 16 he left it all behind everything was gone but her and the drugs. They moved away from the tree’s that whispered and the night that called out to him. He met people, people who understood what he was going through, they told him there was something that was better, made him forget what he left behind. Coke. He knew of it, name one person who didn’t though, it was common and it helped, it kept him sane in a time of need. She knew he needed him, even when she fell pregnant too him she stayed by knowing that it would kill him more if she left. So it went on: the drugs, the regret, the pregnancy, the arguing, more drugs.
On his nineteenth birthday she got him coke, he said he loved her, three days later she had the baby. They were happy, minus the drugs, the crappy apartment the long work hours for her they were a family, she loved him, he loved her. It was the month that she got sick that things went wrong. Jay didn’t work he was a stay at home dad, there was no money coming in. His son was just turning one and the candle burned in the blackness, the air was vibrating with tension, his son couldn’t blow the candle out, he was on the worst withdrawal he had felt in years, she was coughing. He couldn’t take the pulsing in his ears, he lashed out, striking her first, just lightly, it was when he struck him, his own son that she lost it. She was prepared. She hoped she could do it, pull the trigger.
He never felt it tear through his head, but she saw it. She knew it was wrong, no-one deserved to die, but she was not watching him turn into his father. She was not watching him do to her son what was done to him. She wasn’t becoming his mother. He didn’t reach 21, he never saw his child grow up to become so much more than he had ever been.