i woke up and my mom wasn't there. it was the middle of the night it was dark i was nine.

nine is a little old to be sleeping in the same bed as your mom, but we both needed it. at that point it was just me and her, and the people we loved were dying with great regularity. i wouldn't know this until later but the 'special class' i was attending at school was actually a juvenile grief counselor. they wanted to be sure i was grieving effectively, that the stress wasn't too much to bear.

i started crying almost immediately. the bathroom light was not on. the bedroom door was closed. where why and how had she gone. i walked down the long hallway of the house sobbing, looking. i was alone it was dark she was nowhere.

i reached the end of the house and walked back. real terror was gripping me now, big sucks of air between cries. mommy mommy mommy why. but then i noticed a light. it was coming from my bedroom. my bedroom. the one i didn't sleep in.

i opened the door onto my mother having sex with her boyfriend, the man who is now my stepfather. she rushed to push me back into the hallway, to close the door, to put on clothes. they said a thousand things to me but i promised myself i would never forgive them.


but i'm older now

and i don't resent them for their carelessness, their hypocrisy.

i like to fuck too.

i get it.