My name is Erick I am eighteen years old and I have cancer.
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Just the thought of it scares me.
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Mom also died of cancer just three years ago.
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Life without mom was never the same. Mom was the greatest. I remember how she would wake up laughing and whistle ling some random 80’s song. The smell of eggs and bacon in the morning smothered our living room walls. The joy and the laughter that filled our home is something I will always remember. I miss mom so much specially now, especially now that I am all alone. But mom always said “Life is worth living and the minute you give up life loses its purpose”. Yeah she was deep like that. She always saw the positive in the negative. My dad in the other hand well lets just say he was not mom but he was some what close. Yet after mom passed away he turned into a complete stranger and even as I walked into the house I could feel the tension between us. I simply hated living like that and I wanted it to change. Yet it never did.
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After mom’s death dad began gambling. I was only fifteen at the time. It started with scratch tickets and eventually it ended up at the casinos. Every Saturday he would be there like a fin on crack looking for a fix. Gambling became his addiction. But I couldn’t say anything. How could I? We NEVER spoke! Little by little it began to affect us. He fell back on his mortgage payments and eventually we lost our house. He lost his car and his job along with everything else. I couldn’t believe the only place I could still feel my mom was quickly being snatched before my eyes. I hated him for what he had become.
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After applying for housing and a several months of being homeless and living in a shelter the government was able to set us up in a 2 bedroom apartment. Trust me by then I couldn’t wait until I was an adult to get the hell out of there. But of course that was merely a dream. Soon after we were settled in dad felt he had to have a conversation with me. The conversations where the person tells you he or she is going to change but then it never happens. Yeah that conversation, and because I was not that big on let downs I never took it seriously and just after a few months I was proven right. This time he began drinking too. This made him a very angry and abusive father. He was ALWAYS in a bad mood. I always tried to avoid him but that infuriated him even more I guess he hated being alone and having no one to argue with. I remember the nights he had way too much to drink. He would bang my door wide open and bang me in the head or anywhere else he could reach until I could not respond. Every night I would pray to God that he could take me away. Yet three years passed by and the torture continued. The emergency room became my second home with all those late night stays. Every night was a different story and I think by this time the Doctors had caught up to all my lies. They began paying close attention to all my injuries jotted them down and placed a concern frown on their face.
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One night dad came into the apartment rotting in alcohol and yelling that he had lost everything. He came into my room grabbed me from my bed and dragged me to the living room. He took his belt and began hitting me. You could see the anger in his eyes as if I had done all of this to him. As he slashed the belt against my head the buckle smashed my head and cracked it open. After much blood Dad panicked and called 911. The ambulance came rushing in and took me to the ER. That was the last time I saw him. He was later convicted of “Attempt Murder”
TO BE CONTINUED….