Haunted House

Dear mum,

God, I don't even know where to begin. It's been a long and tough ride for us all. I don't remember when it started but - I can't forget it happened.

From what you have always told me we moved in to our home on Friday 13th June 1997; I was three months old. You said that this day was a lucky day for us, and as such, 13 is lucky. However, I fear mum you were wrong. Indeed the number 13 is tainted, and our house is cursed. I chose Saint Patrick's day to be born because I knew I needed the Irish luck on my side to get me through childhood.

Our house is haunted and nothing good comes from it. Spirits go there to die and demons are born.

I have asked you on many occasions to move houses and leave it all behind, yet you stay - still there to this day.

It wasn't always like that of course. I do remember the good times.

Lots of music. Lots of books.

We were always singing together. Bring me to Life by Evanescence was our favourite, and you loved Kissed by a Rose by Seal and that song with Elton John, I can't remember what it's called but I would sing the female parts. And Stay by the Shakespeare Sisters!

I remember all of this. When the air in the home was fresh and light, you were happy, we were happy and I had my mum. We had our mum.

I think it was around the age of six when Lawrence's dad left. Our family of four became three once again. I suddenly went from having two dads, to having one absent one. Lawrence hadn't been diagnosed and you were so young; twenty-two.

Then it got you. Just as it got your mum too.

Stale smoke mixed in with incense would fill all the rooms. Cannabis, cans, and bottles are scattered everywhere, every morning. Why do you think I started spending more time in my room? Or kept asking to spend more time playing outside? Or kept staying at my friends' houses, where I felt welcome and wanted?

Sometimes, even on school days, I would go downstairs to sit in the living room. As soon as I would get to the bottom steps and look straight through the non-existent door because it had been snapped off at this point -

And you still haven't got it fixed. It's been twenty years!

Anyway...There would always be people on our sofa. Smelly strangers whom, I had never seen before and then never did see again.

Can we talk about the syndicate of useless boyfriends? Why did you have to fall in love with such broken men? They used you, beat you, bled you dry and you let them do it.

Do you remember New Years' Eve 2004? I do. I was in bed watching TV when suddenly...a deep rumble of a voice shook the walls, I could hear glasses being smashed, and overlapping voices like rogue waves shouting at each other. I snuck out of bed and dodged the creaky landing. Took two sneaky steps down. Peered through the gaps of the bannister baring witness to a violent brawl in the hallway where our school photos hang.

I ran back up the steps as fast as I could and straight into the bathroom, trying to lock myself in but I couldn't because that bloody lock has never worked. So I lent up against the door, sliding down to my feet, putting my hands on my ears, I shut my eyes tight and just sobbed.

Good thing there's a toilet downstairs ey' mum?

Do you remember when our front door and living room window were smashed in? And how it took six weeks for the council to replace them? Funnily enough, though, that door is still broken. It doesn't even lock properly. Also, do you remember when the police had to install an alarm system into the house just in case your ex-boyfriend that fractured your ankle doesn't come round smashing up the house again?

It was after all of this I could see your light had dwindled and a piece of you died. Vodka saved you, sambuca became your comfort, while wine was a friend. It started with a few tipsy weekends to a couple of drunk nights a week. It got more and more, and I could see that you were spiralling but I was only eight, and I was about to have my operation to help with my cerebral palsy.

Once I could walk again you continued to spiral. Every day when I was at school I would also ask what my friends would be doing after the bell had rung in the hope they would invite me for dinner. I didn’t know how to cook properly at this point and I wanted to eat. So, I would spend the whole day thinking of ways to avoid home.

The peak was between the years fourteen to sixteen. I came home from school an hour and a half later than usual to find Lawrence aged ten, to be on his own.

“Where’s mum?”

“I don’t know, I think she’s down the pub.”

Town, as you know, is a twenty-minute walk but I have cerebral palsy so this becomes half an hour to forty minutes instantly. I walked so fast that I had a stitch and shooting pains in my legs by the time I made it into town; still wearing my school uniform.

And there you were, surrounded by men - gross, sweaty men. All pissed and absolutely out of it, but, you didn’t care that I was begging for you to come home. You were that bladdered that someone handed you a pint and you dropped it out of your hands. I even asked the staff how much you had had, but they said they didn’t know. I felt isolated and so embarrassed. Here I was a child, asking fully grown adults to sort out their behaviour.

With every minute I was in that pub, I grew more and more paranoid about Lawrence. You put me in a position where I didn’t know what to do. So I left you there hoping you would rot.

On my way home I rang my dad; who was and still is always working. He told me to go home, make some dinner for Lawrence and me, and he will come and get me tomorrow.

If you remember this was when I left home for the first time properly.

But I felt bad.

I left Lawrence. I left you.

It’s not my fault his dad doesn’t bother.

It's not my responsibility to look after you.

But I feel bad about it nonetheless.

When I came back home I sensed a change in the air, a new man and his child. You had let them move in and suddenly I can’t listen to music out loud anymore, my sentimental childhood things had to go to him.

You two should have never got together. He wasn’t bad as the others but he wasn’t great either. You brought the worst out of each other.

The air was a toxic hallucinogenic haze, I soon found out; shrooms, DMT and coke discovered on multiple occasions. I saw you racking up a line on a CD of mine when I came home from revision. I saw it. I pretended not to - but I did.

You two would fight a lot of well. You once smashed a mirror and picked up a huge slice, remember? You were going to slice your wrist right in front of me until he stopped you taking the piece out of your hand screaming, "how can you do that in front of your daughter?!"

And then there was that time when you locked Lawrence and me in the house while our aunt, your sister, rang the police. I remember auntie climbing through the window to get in, she screamed at you to stop what you were doing and to unlock the doors. You thought this was an attack and you went for her. I had to witness my mum and my auntie fighting in my living room. Strands of hair fell out all over the floor, the bookcase took a beating to being whacked and pushed up against the wall. Thank the gods neither of you went towards the fish tank, and Lawrence was upstairs so he didn't see any of this. But I definitely did.

My auntie climbed back out of the window and waited for the police. Meanwhile I was scared, waiting by the backdoor hoping that you would come to your senses before the police arrived and give me the keys. But you didn't.

When they did arrive they had to break the door down and we had to go and stay elsewhere for the weekend. If you didn't cooperate we would have been taken straight into the care system. I would have been okay but Lawrence would have been destroyed. You nearly lost us and yet you still didn't stop!

It's because of the house - that bloody house! It's tainted, plagued, cursed! If someone is beaming with life, pure, innocent, and happy, then it will not last and will most certainly die. Leaving a dusty taste of ash at the back of your mouth. If the walls could speak today they would weep. Traumatised and neglected, stained and damaged. How haunted do you think it is now?

You spiralled for a few more years before something changed. I wasn't there, and I'm sorry for that. I feel bad but I had to put my life first. I was seventeen and wanted to get to university. I'm sorry for abandoning you. Both of you.

But what I noticed was - something had changed.

You had - had enough.

You didn't want this life anymore.

You got a job.

Things were good again...Employee of the Month!

Until...Fire in the warehouse...You were made redundant.

Whisky or wine? Take both because you tried and the universe decided you weren't deserving, right?

Debts, debts, debts, arrears after arrears after arrears. You spiralled again.

Until... you met a lovely man, you become a nana, and then got your old job back with a promotion on top! My mum had returned back. We had our mum back.

Now a year and a half later, and would you look at you! You barely drink anymore, only on days off which you hardly have. You're working so hard that your company recognises it. You have the best man to call a partner, one who takes care of you, Lawrence, and us too. He's hard-working, and has his heart in the right place, he is good. So bloody keep him!

And look at Lawrence hey? He is working now too. Things are good and well. Things are prospering.

But for how long? How long will this last? Because for as so long as you're in that house surrounded by your ghosts and demons, nothing good will last.

Leave. Move somewhere new. Let it go.

I have never blamed you for our childhood, but I'm not exactly grateful. I understand. I forgive you. And I hope you can forgive me.

I'm proud of you and how far you have come, but I know there's still a long road ahead. Keep going. Please.

I love you mum.

From,

Your Only Daughter.

***

Please note: This is my personal story, and I have changed names as I find it difficult to talk about. I don't want to hurt anyone by dragging up past events, but I was affected by them and writing this piece has allowed me to accept all of this and move on. I want my mum and family to do the same, now that I am a mother myself.

Change is the only constant, it's what forces us to become the best versions of ourselves. If you or anyone you love is struggling with alcoholism or substance abuse, I have linked websites that offer help and support below:

• https://www.nhs.uk/live-well/alcohol-advice/alcohol-support/

• https://www.alcoholics-anonymous.org.uk/

• https://alcoholchange.org.uk/help-and-support/get-help-now

• https://www.drinkaware.co.uk/advice/alcohol-support-services

• https://www.turning-point.co.uk/services/drug-and-alcohol-support.html

• https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/guides-to-support-and-services/addiction-and-dependency/addiction-and-dependency-resources/

• https://www.supportline.org.uk/problems/alcohol/
• https://www.silkworthlodge.co.uk/resource/damage-to-the-children-of-addicts

You can also find the same piece on my PublishOx page: https://www.publish0x.com/the-writers-bloc/haunted-house-were-the-spirits-drink-themselves-to-death-xglxxxl