5150
It's my birthday.
On Friday, I watched my brother's ex girlfriend and daughter carve their first pumpkins ever. I watched Madison eat a blue lollipop and cry when we took it away. I watched Amber laugh when she realized that the eyelashes on her pumpkin where going to touch because she didn't think them through completely before starting. I watched my sister carve "hair" into her pumpkin that looked more like ears than hair. And I watched my dad carved a tiny pumpkin and then bake the seeds because my sister really wanted him to. My brother, in the meantime, was at a rave an hour and half away.
Later Friday night I got a call from my brother. He had gotten busted because his ticket was counterfeit and had been locked outside the rave while his friends were all inside, refusing to come out, with the car keys. The rave wasn't supposed to end until 4:00 AM so he was asking for a ride home. At first I wanted to leave him, let him sit outside and learn a lesson about leaving his family for something so stupid and selfish. I ended up changing my mind when I heard him shivering on the phone. My heart broke in half and I got Travis to drive to USC at 11:30 to pick up my brother.
Saturday I came home at 1 in the morning (i was asleep at Trav's) and laid down in the bed. About ten minutes after I got home, I heard a loud knock on the front door so I started getting dressed to answer it, assuming that my brother was locked out. About 30 seconds after I heard the first knock, I heard the front door window break. I ran out of my room, with my skirt that I wore earlier inside-out, to see what was happening hoping that it was my brother and not someone trying to break in. It was my brother and he was drunk. Really, REALLY drunk. He had a team of people holding him up, asking me to help him get into bed. Jason was being really difficult. He was demanding that to be let go so he could go back out to the party he just came from. He was going to "kill" someone for flirting with Amber. He tried to fight me when I told him he couldn't leave. And he threw his head into the wall, leaving a hole, in protest. Initially I was irritated that he was making such a commotion while my 7 year old sister and his 13 month old daughter slept in the next room. As he became increasingly violent, his rage aimed at me, I decided it was best to grab my dad before he actually did hurt someone.
My dad tried to be really cool. He grabbed my brother and told his friends to leave. It turned out they weren't even my brother's friends, just some guys trying to help him get home. We appreciate what they did, but at the time just wanted them to go home. My dad kept telling my brother to lay down on the couch and my brother kept fighting, saying he had to leave. Repeatedly they went back and forth, the volumes of their voices raising louder and louder. My brother tried everything to leave. He tried the front door, but my dad blocked it. He tried the back door, but was so drunk that he ran into it and fell, taking down the blinds with him. There's blood on the walls, the furniture, the blinds, his face. His hand is cut from the window. His head is cut from the wall. He pushed my dad and kept calling him "mom" and repeated over and over how fucked up everything is. please, don't do this. He bit, pinched, and slapped my dad to get away. This is when I called 911.
Please, send someone soon. My dad is too old to hold him down for long. He's trying to hurt us. He's drunk. There's broken glass everywhere. Please hurry. The couch was flipped, Our glass coffee table was flipped. And there they were on the floor, my dad choking my brother. They were yelling so loud, I don't know how my sister didn't wake up. My brother would get really loud and then he'd gasp for air. Shurie, god damnit! I thought you called the police. So I called 911 again. They told me the police were at my house, but they weren't. I kept telling them that the police weren't here and they kept telling me they were as if I just hadn't them. My brother was crying. My dad was breathing hard. Amber was hysterical sitting against the wall. Finally the police came in.
They put my brother in handcuffs and sat him on our sofa. I grabbed my dad water and helped him off the floor. His shins were bloodied from rug burns. He had bite marks all over his arm. He was aching. He's too old for this shit. My brother didn't know where he was, who I was, that he was fighting with my dad minutes earlier. He kept saying he lived two houses down, across the street. He was calm now. He didn't fight. He rambled on. Nothing he said made sense. He cried when he realized that my stepmom was there. He begged her to go wake my dad up. You don't understand. I respect my parents so much. He broke my heart.
He needed to see Amber to believe she was home. We told him she was sleeping and that we would get her, but when we knocked on the door, she didn't answer. So we knocked louder. And louder. Now we have a drunk on the couch. And Amber's passed out, locked in a room with the baby and no one can get to her. We tried to go through the window, but couldn't. We tried knocking, but no one answered. So my dad broke the door down fearing she was too drunk and needed help.
The longer Jason went on without seeing Amber, the more violent he became. The officer took the handcuffs off him when he calmed down, but was forced to put them back on when he began punching himself. An ambulance showed up with a firetruck. By now there were 5 cop cars at my house. Jason had a confusion and alcohol poisoning and he's trying to hurt himself and everyone around him. For a second, I thought he was going to assault an officer and that was would be the end of it. He would headbutt his knees as hard as he could. He tried to stand up many times, only to be shoved back down by the police officer. There was nothing to do.
After hours of fighting with him, we voted.
About an hour and a half ago, my brother called the house. Dad, why am I in a Mental Hospital?
Happy Birthday, Shurie.
Today I'm 22.
On Friday, I watched my brother's ex girlfriend and daughter carve their first pumpkins ever. I watched Madison eat a blue lollipop and cry when we took it away. I watched Amber laugh when she realized that the eyelashes on her pumpkin where going to touch because she didn't think them through completely before starting. I watched my sister carve "hair" into her pumpkin that looked more like ears than hair. And I watched my dad carved a tiny pumpkin and then bake the seeds because my sister really wanted him to. My brother, in the meantime, was at a rave an hour and half away.
Later Friday night I got a call from my brother. He had gotten busted because his ticket was counterfeit and had been locked outside the rave while his friends were all inside, refusing to come out, with the car keys. The rave wasn't supposed to end until 4:00 AM so he was asking for a ride home. At first I wanted to leave him, let him sit outside and learn a lesson about leaving his family for something so stupid and selfish. I ended up changing my mind when I heard him shivering on the phone. My heart broke in half and I got Travis to drive to USC at 11:30 to pick up my brother.
Saturday I came home at 1 in the morning (i was asleep at Trav's) and laid down in the bed. About ten minutes after I got home, I heard a loud knock on the front door so I started getting dressed to answer it, assuming that my brother was locked out. About 30 seconds after I heard the first knock, I heard the front door window break. I ran out of my room, with my skirt that I wore earlier inside-out, to see what was happening hoping that it was my brother and not someone trying to break in. It was my brother and he was drunk. Really, REALLY drunk. He had a team of people holding him up, asking me to help him get into bed. Jason was being really difficult. He was demanding that to be let go so he could go back out to the party he just came from. He was going to "kill" someone for flirting with Amber. He tried to fight me when I told him he couldn't leave. And he threw his head into the wall, leaving a hole, in protest. Initially I was irritated that he was making such a commotion while my 7 year old sister and his 13 month old daughter slept in the next room. As he became increasingly violent, his rage aimed at me, I decided it was best to grab my dad before he actually did hurt someone.
My dad tried to be really cool. He grabbed my brother and told his friends to leave. It turned out they weren't even my brother's friends, just some guys trying to help him get home. We appreciate what they did, but at the time just wanted them to go home. My dad kept telling my brother to lay down on the couch and my brother kept fighting, saying he had to leave. Repeatedly they went back and forth, the volumes of their voices raising louder and louder. My brother tried everything to leave. He tried the front door, but my dad blocked it. He tried the back door, but was so drunk that he ran into it and fell, taking down the blinds with him. There's blood on the walls, the furniture, the blinds, his face. His hand is cut from the window. His head is cut from the wall. He pushed my dad and kept calling him "mom" and repeated over and over how fucked up everything is. please, don't do this. He bit, pinched, and slapped my dad to get away. This is when I called 911.
Please, send someone soon. My dad is too old to hold him down for long. He's trying to hurt us. He's drunk. There's broken glass everywhere. Please hurry. The couch was flipped, Our glass coffee table was flipped. And there they were on the floor, my dad choking my brother. They were yelling so loud, I don't know how my sister didn't wake up. My brother would get really loud and then he'd gasp for air. Shurie, god damnit! I thought you called the police. So I called 911 again. They told me the police were at my house, but they weren't. I kept telling them that the police weren't here and they kept telling me they were as if I just hadn't them. My brother was crying. My dad was breathing hard. Amber was hysterical sitting against the wall. Finally the police came in.
They put my brother in handcuffs and sat him on our sofa. I grabbed my dad water and helped him off the floor. His shins were bloodied from rug burns. He had bite marks all over his arm. He was aching. He's too old for this shit. My brother didn't know where he was, who I was, that he was fighting with my dad minutes earlier. He kept saying he lived two houses down, across the street. He was calm now. He didn't fight. He rambled on. Nothing he said made sense. He cried when he realized that my stepmom was there. He begged her to go wake my dad up. You don't understand. I respect my parents so much. He broke my heart.
He needed to see Amber to believe she was home. We told him she was sleeping and that we would get her, but when we knocked on the door, she didn't answer. So we knocked louder. And louder. Now we have a drunk on the couch. And Amber's passed out, locked in a room with the baby and no one can get to her. We tried to go through the window, but couldn't. We tried knocking, but no one answered. So my dad broke the door down fearing she was too drunk and needed help.
The longer Jason went on without seeing Amber, the more violent he became. The officer took the handcuffs off him when he calmed down, but was forced to put them back on when he began punching himself. An ambulance showed up with a firetruck. By now there were 5 cop cars at my house. Jason had a confusion and alcohol poisoning and he's trying to hurt himself and everyone around him. For a second, I thought he was going to assault an officer and that was would be the end of it. He would headbutt his knees as hard as he could. He tried to stand up many times, only to be shoved back down by the police officer. There was nothing to do.
After hours of fighting with him, we voted.
About an hour and a half ago, my brother called the house. Dad, why am I in a Mental Hospital?
Happy Birthday, Shurie.
Today I'm 22.