Nibbles

Do you want to know how disgusting our house was growing up? About fifth grade I was sleeping in my mom’s room with her since the divorce at her request. She was pathetic and couldn’t be alone. Anyway, one night I’m lying there and something is tickling my arm but my arm is under my pillow. You see where this is going. No? Mice. It’s fucking going to mice. Multiple mice nibling on my arm as I tried to sleep in my mother’s filthy bed in my mother’s filthy house.

That was my last night in that bed. When I informed my mom I’d be sleeping in my own room from then on she tried to trade rooms with me. Still pathetic. She couldn’t be in her bedroom alone and needed to manipulate me for her gain. My room stayed clean and tidy, in the midst of trash and filth and a partially collapsed roof and angry holes in walls. It was far from a safe haven, but it wasn’t the rest of the place.