Just a pill

Dear mom, or Kendra, I'm not sure what you'd want me to call you.

The darkest day in my entire life, was in the late spring of 2014. I was only eight years old, so I don't remember the exact date. It was rainy, the clouds just looked like I was awaiting my impending doom, and that's exactly what I felt like.

You hung up the phone, I had no idea who you were talking to, but as soon as you did, shit hit the fan. You stood at the kitchen counter in our small trailer house, just me and you lived there at the time, and on the counter were several bottles of pills. They were just your vitamins, the ones you took every day. It was routine in my head to watch you take them, and count the colors.

One big yellow one, a small green one, two round red ones, there were others, but that's all I remember from photographic memory. You were crying, and you took your pills like normal. Except when I was counting colors, you didn't take two red ones. There was a medium size round one it was white with a few letters on it, in place of one of the red pills. You didn't check them, as you never did because they were just vitamins.

When I tried to tell you that one of the pills looked funny. You told me I shouldn't be watching you take them, because it could lead to bad habits. I didn't know what you meant by that at the time. I do now, and no, I don't have the bad habit in question or even anything similar. "It was just a pill" you told me, "they make me feel better." you said.

A few hours later, we were coloring together, it was one of our favorite things to do together. You left to go to the bathroom, and what seemed like a long while later, you came back angry and crying. You started yelling at me, saying strange things like: "This is all his fault, no, it's your fault!" and "I just wanted to be a mother! You were supposed to be mine!" I was a confused child, seemingly being yelled at for nothing. I started crying. You stopped when you saw me, though. You got down on your knees, cupped my face and wiped away my tears before hugging me tight.

"You want to go to the play room?" you asked. Now that I'm much older, I know that we were a foster family. That's why I always had 'friends' over for a couple of weeks at a time. "The playroom" was the visitation room in the DHS building. It was filled with toys, and it was always where I got to meet my new friends. I did not know any of that at the time. "yea mommy, can we go?" I said as I calmed down a bit.

You carried me to the car, and we got snow cones on the way there. Once we arrived, you started crying again, worse than before. "Are you okay, mommy?" I asked. You pulled me into the front seat, and you held me in your lap, crying and hugging me. You never answered my question.

Once we got into the building, you got down to me and said: "You can go to the playroom now, I'll be waiting out here." "Promise?" I asked. I had a bad feeling. I was diagnosed with anxiety and social anxiety at a very young age, so it may have just been nervous, but it was a sense of impending doom like I had never felt before. My mom would never break a promise. "I promise, I love you, Jay."

You promised. I went to the play room, but there were no friends waiting for me. I was an only child, and accustomed to being alone, so I played on my own. Time went on, and I ended up making something out of Legos. I was excited, I went out of the room to show my mom, but when I got to the waiting area, she wasn't there. When the DHS workers realized I was out of the play room, they very aggressively ushered me back inside. I was crying and yelling: "where's my mom? No, I want my mom! Let go of me, I'm just trying to see my mom!"

I was forced back into the room and cried. At the time, I thought I was only there for an hour. Turns out, I was there alone for four hours before my abusive aunt came to get me. My dad was supposed to come get me, but he only came to tell the DHS workers that he didn't want me. I lived with my aunt for three horrible months. I went through things a kid that age shouldn't even know about. She loved her own son, Tayler, but even though Tayler and I were good friends, I was treated horribly. I was starved, beaten by her drunk friends, blamed for things that happened even if I wasn't around, forced to watch horror movies before bed, and other horrible things I can't mention here.

It was hell until my dad came to get me. He took me school shopping, to an arcade, then fed me well. This was great treatment in my eyes, so I began to trust him. He was a wealthy man, I stayed with a nanny while he did what ever he wanted. Until, when I was twelve, he married a horrible woman, and we moved to the country. His wife was mean to me, but I got money for whatever I wanted, and could go anywhere I wanted as long as I did good in school and stayed out of trouble, which I did.

The best part about it all, was my dad was spending time with me. I went to work with him, he was a truck driver, so it was okay, and we talked. we talked about you, mom.

I learned that the reason you abandoned me was because you had a miscarriage. That you had gotten pregnant by another man, because dad was sterilized after having me, and you wanted to be a mother. I learned that the pill was a Plan B, he slipped into your vitamins. I learned that I was the product of an affair on his side. When I was 13, I found out you had a baby boy. I wanted to contact you, I got your number from dad's phone, and messaged you.

You sent me a picture of my baby brother, and told me how happy you were. You said that you would text me once you got out of the hospital, instead you blocked my number. That was the first time I ever cut myself.

I wish I could say I got over it, but I didn't. While I don't hold what you did against you, I want some closure. I find it hard to believe you never wonder what I'm doing or if I'm okay. When I was 14, I attempted suicide, I had my stomach pumped and was in the hospital for four days. When I was 9 I knew, but when I was 13 I came out as a lesbian. My dad gave up his rights because of it. Now I'm 16 and live with my wife in a small town.

These are all important parts of my life that you missed out on. You were so kind to me up until you left, and I could've had a good life. But now I have to see a therapist every week to make sure I won't hurt myself again. These are all times that I needed you, and you weren't there for me. I just need a bit of closure, but you won't speak to me! You don't want to see me!

"It was just a pill though, right, mom?"