The Life of Alexander Cross

As I approached my doorstep, I reached for my key and prepared to unlock the door. The only sound I could hear was an eerie silence that filled the air. After successfully unlocking the door, I cautiously walked through the hall, making sure to take in my surroundings. Finally, I made my way to the table and placed my keys down.

"Mom! Are you home?" I yelled out as I walked into the hallway.

The stillness of the house made the hairs on my arms stand up. As I walked towards the dining room, I noticed prescription pills on the table and wooden floors. My heart raced as I ran to the bathroom, where I found my mother in the bathtub. Quickly, I grabbed a towel to cover her and lifted her out of the tub, carrying her to her bedroom.

The faint smell of vomit greeted me as I gently laid her on her bed.

"Is that you Alex?" she asked weakly.

"Yes, it's me, Shelia," I replied with relief.

It has been a long-standing request of my mother to be addressed by her first name, rather than the traditional term of endearment "mom". Her reasoning for this is deeply personal and rooted in past mistakes that still bring her pain to this day.

However, as I take a moment to survey the room around me, I can't help but notice the remnants of her wild teenage years scattered about - clothing haphazardly strewn on the floor, and empty liquor bottles that seem to suggest she hasn't quite outgrown her youthful rebelliousness.

It is a curious contrast, and one that leaves me with a sense of unease.