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Personal Narrative Fiction

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Whenever I was bored, I would find myself drifting up the stairs, down the hallway, past the door to my room and the wall lined with pictures, through my parents' bedroom door and the entryway to the bathroom, taking a right, and sitting. My mother's closet, although a strange place to wander, would bring me comfort. Hiding among the clothes was like a shield against the outside world. There I could try on stilettos and pretend I was an important business woman like my mother. It was only until one day when I found something that horrified me: a brown, crinkled paper bag with a bottle of vodka hiding in it. My world was turned upside down. My stomach hurt and the clothes around me seemed to be watching my every move. Time slowed down as the realizations hit, leaving me to connect the dots between the strange events prior to this discovery. …show more content…
Her constant disappearances, when I did not know where she was for months on end, caused a blissful ignorance that was only burst open along with the paper bag. However, these events did not subside with my comprehension. I would run the the neighbor's house when any sense of a storm came to me, hearing my father's words through the limestone block walls of the house. Ultimately, the alcohol, the fighting, the yelling, the hiding, and the tension was what lead to my parents' divorce. After my father was out of the house, I started keeping the receipts from all the bottles, keeping her accountable for her actions, but never actually acting on it myself. It was almost as if I was holding onto the evidence that I was not crazy, that the bottles were still there, and the liquid inside them still

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