Be strong, they said. Things will get better, they said. They were wrong. It was all lies. 

***

I watched him stumble into the tiny living room I had just spotlessly cleaned. He fumbled for the lights while reeking of alcohol. The smell of weed was so strong, saturating the whole house. He found the lights, illuminating the living room once again. I preferred the darkness – it hid me, kept me in the shadows and away from everyone.

The moment the lights were on, his gaze collided with me. He gave me a crooked smile and I shuddered at the sight. He used to be handsome, I could tell. But not anymore. Now, he was just a drug addict and a hardcore alcoholic. His eyes were sunken in, his face has lost the glow. He was pale, skinny and his eyes were... odd.

Keith – My mom's dealer and her seventh boyfriend this year. This one has lasted longer than the others. Two months, two weeks and three days... and five hours.

He gave me all the wrong vibes, just like the others. The way he leered at me, the way he'd always find an excuse to touch me. He would apologize later, but his apologies held no real meaning.

My mother was a whore, as much as I hated to admit it. The words tasted bitter on my tongue but it was the truth. When my father passed away, she went into the deep end. It started with drugs.

She said she wanted to forget, to escape the pain.

Then, it was the countless bottles of alcohol. I'd come home to see the empty bottles rolling on the floors with my mom passed out on the couch, pissed drunk.

It started out slow. She promised she'd do better. She promised she'd try.

But that's how it all starts, doesn't it?

The fake promises and the lies. They sound genuine, but they are just useless words. They give you a false sense of hope and security before everything crumbles underneath you.

Months later, my mother became an addict. No matter how many times I tried to pull her out, she fell back into the dark hole again. I fought for three years.

Until I just... gave up.

What was the point of fighting for a mother who forgot her daughter's existence?

Keith came closer, his feet dragging behind him. "Penelopeee," he slurred, before stumbling into the couch. He settled beside me, smiling with his yellow teeth. The pungent smell of days' old sweat and sex made me gag but I forced the bile down my throat again.

My fingers clenched around my blanket and I pulled it closer to me. It was the only protection I had.

Don't touch me. Please, don't touch me...

Unshed tears welled up in my eyes when he gave me his usual sleazy smile. "Your mom... is sleeping..."

Sleeping. Sex. Drugs. Repeat.

Keith brought a hand up and I flinched away, my muscles locking firmly. His eyebrows pulled up together at the reaction. His cold hand landed on my thigh, right above my knee. His fingers rubbed back and forth, caressing my naked skin. I shouldn't have worn shorts today; I should have covered up.

Stupid me, stupid, stupid.

"Ya know, you're... more beautiful than... your mom. Nah, she's a bitch... you sweet."

Keith brought his head closer. A soft whimper escaped past my throat when he grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips. His tongue slid out and he licked the center of my palm. "Sweet like sugar."

I wrenched my hand away, my heart galloping as if I was running a race. "Don't touch me."

"Nah, you've been wanting me to touch... you. Saw the way... you look at me..."

Wrong! I want you far from me.

He moved closer to me, his putrid breath fanning over my face. His hands slid up my thighs, to my hips, touching me as a lover would. But there was nothing sweet or romantic about it. His touch made my skin crawl, and a shiver ran down my spine. I bit down on my lips, holding back a cry. I knew it was useless to scream for help. No one would hear me.

My mother didn't care. If I woke her up from her sleep, she'd only take out her anger on me. The bruises on my hips from last week were still healing.

His hands began to wander closer to my chest. My pink camisole was only a thin barrier and it couldn't protect me from Keith. His hazy eyes searched mine as he shifted closer, his face mere inches from mine now.

My stomach clenched, painfully. "Sweet girl," he said in my ear.

No. My hands landed on his shoulders and I pushed against him. "Back off, Keith. Now."

"Penelope," he slurred, sleepily. It was creepy, the way he said my name.

I pushed harder, my fists thumping over his chest. My attempts were successful when his body went slack and he fell forward. I rolled over just in time, to avoid him falling on me. Keith laid on the couch, his arms dangling over the edge – passed out and snoring.

I stayed kneeling on the floor for a minute until my phone vibrated, breaking me out of my messed-up thoughts.

One of my friends texted me. Club, tonight? Can make you forget about your bad day.

I let out a humorless laugh. Nothing could make me forget. This, my dad, my fucked-up mother and all the sleazy boyfriends she brought home. I was trapped in a never-ending cycle of a nightmare.

Yes. I'll come.

The tight control I had my grip on, it tore apart, pieces by pieces. The rope slipped from my fingers and I crashed down, hard.

I had always been the good girl, kept my head down, focused on school and my part-time job. I had to learn to be an adult at a very young age. After all, I was the one working and bringing cash home – the same money my mother spent on her drugs.

Not anymore...

I couldn't do it anymore...

Tonight, I planned to forget everything.

Keith. My mom. My dad...

I didn't want to be the sweet girl anymore.

She died. 

***

She was a good girl gone bad.