I dont even like Mountain Dew tf

Rich took in the all too familiar sterile scent of the rehab center. God if he had a dollar for every time he was in here, he’d be able to buy anything his heart desired. But he wasn’t here for himself, nah. He didn’t have any sort of problems with drugs or anything, no one in his family did, unless you counted his dad’s liquor. He was here for his mother. He knew her room, 236, by heart. She’d been here for years, fighting hard against something that she just couldn’t seem to beat. Rich stepped into the room, seeing his feeble mother smile to him.

I’ve got a word for all you ghosts in her head

As a child, Rich never understood much. He knew that he liked recess, to always knock before going to the bathroom, and when his mom and he both squeezed into his closet, they were supposed to stay quiet and not move. Now Rich knew better. His mom had been his guardian angel for lack of better words, all his life. But now he found the tables turned. He knew now what bulimia was and why he was to always knock on the bathroom door. “Hey, mama. How you holdin’ up?” He smiled gently, pulling up a chair and sitting next to her bed. There was a bible on her desk side table and a glass of water. She had put on a couple of pounds, causing Rich a small bit of relief. He was always worried for her.

And all you skeletons in her closet

“Much better, Richie. Dr. Shang said that I’ll be starting group therapy on Wednesday.” Rich have her a grin, unable to hold it back. She was smiling, and that sent him over the moon. He knew good and well how she began all this. She had a history of abuse. Rich’s late grandfather had been just as bad as his father now. She couldn’t seem to avoid these horrible men. Even Rich’s brother, her first born son, had taken after the eldest Goranski. She had taken emotional abuse all her life, food was a punishment. Rich remembered when his parents would argue as he played with his toy trucks. How his mothers voice never rose, but his father would scream. Scream that she was fat, disgusting, and a slob. But they were improving, that’s all that mattered.

Leave her alone, leave her alone, leave her alone, please

“Night, mama…” As Rich turned out the light, he looked at his resting mother. She had fallen asleep to Rich’s laptop playing Peter Pan. The movie was comforting to them both. The story of Peter Pan always excited Rich. He claimed that they would run away to Neverland and that Peter Pan would make an exception to the no grown ups rule because she would be all their mothers. He shut the laptop and set it down next to his chair. After shooting a quick text goodnight to his friends group chat, he laid back in the chair, shutting his eyes.

Because my mom needs you gone, my mom needs you gone

The clock read 3:42 AM in big red numbers. Rich’s mind was still hazy as his eyes creaked open. He yawned, looking around the room before noticing something. His mother wasn’t in bed. His heart skipped a beat, before his eyes fell on the rooms bathroom. She’d just recently been given a new room, she’d been doing so well they thought they could trust her with her own bathroom. Immediately, Rich stood and ran over to the bathroom. “Mama? You okay in there?” The noise that responded was one that nearly yanked years from his eyes. Heaving.

As long as she is haunted she’ll never get strong

The doors couldn’t lock here, the doctors were smarter than that. Now the clock read 3:46 AM, but no one saw its message. Instead Rich was busy on the floor of the bathroom, hand gently rubbing his moms back and holding her in his arms. Her hair felt coarse and thin, her body was trembling, and her cheeks were dampening Rich’s favorite eyeball tank top. She’d been doing so well, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep. What the he’ll was he thinking?! He pushed those self deprecating thoughts away for another day. Soft sobbing against his chest was all the noise he could hear. “It’s alright, mama… You’re gonna be okay…”

My mom needs you gone