Beware of Strangers III

— Continued from Beware of Strangers & Beware of Strangers II

I felt sick.  Where was she?  I wondered through the house looking for her, but she was gone.  I looked outside and didn’t see her anywhere.  I was becoming frantic!

I ran back inside and saw that her shirt was still laying on the bed.  She was drunk and outside in the middle of the worst part of the projects with only a bra on…

That was about the time that my other friend’s brother thankfully arrived.  I told him that the strangers had not returned, but that now my friend was missing.

This is an ongoing story of my life.  Please read four-year-old-and-mother-survives-bludgeoning-by-river-rock/  to start at the beginning or go to the Childhood Traumas category and start at the bottom.

We both began searching, walking through the dark, crime laden neighborhood in search of her.  I called out to her but didn’t receive any response.  I saw a few guys in hoodies standing around some of the residences, and asked them if they had seen a drunk girl walking alone, they claimed that they hadn’t seen anything.  After searching everywhere we could think of, we didn’t know what else to do but return to my house.

We sat and waited, hoping beyond hope that she would turn up, unharmed and very soon.  I told him the details of this dreadful night as we waited.

All manner of things could have happened to her.  She could have been attacked, kidnapped, raped, assaulted, the list went on and on.  What does one expect when she takes off through one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in town topless and drunk?

She finally came walking through the door wrapped in a blanket.  She had apparently had the forethought to pick the throw up from my bed and wrap it around her before heading outside.

I asked her where she had been, what she had been thinking, and why she wandered off in her condition.  She laughed and laughed… she couldn’t remember much, but did say that she remembered being in a house somewhere with a bunch of guys smoking weed!

My overprotective mother gene, that I sadly developed by taking care of my own mother before I was even a teenager, ranted at her about what could have happened and own stupid decisions, but she wasn’t listening.  This girl who had been my best friend for three years, with whom I had practically lived with in middle school at either her house or mine, had changed into a dangerous risk taker.

That was all that happened on that dreadful night.  By only the grace of God, all of the terrible things that could have happened did not happen to her (or us) that night.  But I knew that it was time for me to make a change.

Even though I loved her dearly, she had put my health and maybe even my life in danger that night, and I just couldn’t be around someone who would do something like that.

You always hear how the people you hang out with are a reflection of you.  That is why most parents want you to distance yourself from the bad kids, the trouble makers…I didn’t have anyone to tell me that, but I knew myself that this was the best decision.  Sometimes these hard and painful decisions are the only ones that you can make


Read my next story here: Mothering the Mother

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