From as far back as I can remember, she hated me.
She never made me breakfast or lunch. Cooked dinner was a rarity. Midnight fast food runs were more common.
When she looked at me, it was always with anger and she never spoke softly. She was loud, harsh and mean. She often slapped me in the face just for breathing. She made me her personal servant. “Go get me this, get me that”. Years ago, kids were allowed to buy cigarettes. I was her cigarette runner, neighbor-sugar-borrower and everything else. I was scared of her. I lived like a mouse whenever she was around. She was an alcoholic and drug addict. The alcohol caused her to be even more cruel with her words. The drugs caused her to be absent in my presence.
When she left me alone, I would spend hours listening to her tapes on an 8-track…
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