Six 6-Sentence Chapters by Madam Z
I. I was fourteen and not old enough to know better. My mom was thirty-two. She should have known better, but I guess she didn’t, because one Saturday night, she let me sit in the living room with her and her boyfriend, Freddy, her stupid, drunken-bum brother, Bob, and their revolting friend George, while they passed a quart of whiskey around. I took a swig every time the bottle came to me. I felt very grown-up and like part of the gang. Since I had no interaction with kids my age, outside of school, I figured this was as close to a “party” as I would get.
II. Before long, my mother started acting pretty silly and was laughing a lot. Then she started hanging onto Freddy and I felt embarrassed for her. Uncle Bob had a camera and asked me to take a picture of them. I was feeling very woozy by this time, but I agreed to do it. I stood up and he handed me the camera. However, I couldnâ€™t feel my arms or hands; they were completely numb.
III. So, the camera slipped from my fingers. It seemed to take a long time before it hit the floor. Uncle Bob swore at me and grabbed the camera. Unfortunately, it still worked. Mom and Freddy were kissing each other and Bob snapped a couple pictures. The next thing I knew, George pulled me down on the couch next to him, and kissed me.
IV. Then he put his hand on my leg and pushed up my skirt. Uncle Bob snapped a picture of that, too. “Hey George,” Freddy interrupted, “she’s just a kid. Leave her alone.” George let go of me and I staggered from the room. I felt sick.
V. I made it to the bathroom and threw up. I passed out on the floor and didn’t wake up until Mom came into the bathroom, looking for me. “Oh, honey, are you sick? You’d better get to bed.” She helped me to my feet and steered me to the bedroom. I fell into bed and passed out again.
VI. I woke up when the sun pierced the bedroom window and my head. I felt like there was a volcano in my stomach. I barely made it to the bathroom when I started vomiting again. It went on and on until I thought that all my insides were going to be outside. When it finally subsided, I said out loud, “I will never get drunk again… never… never again!” And I didn’t, at least not that drunk.
Madam Z lives and writes in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.