Growing up , as far back as I can remember drugs have always been a part of my life. Tearing my family apart. Ruining my life. First , it was my dad. I was blind to the abuse in the beginning , I couldn't tell he was using , a little girl like me didn't know what it looked like to be nodding off. I loved my dad , I was such a daddy’s girl. Always by his side even when he made bad decisions because I looked right past them. I faintly remember when I was about six going to see him in the hospital because he fell down the stairs and had to have surgery on his leg, later finding out at 13 years old he had overdosed and hurt himself. I used to blame my mom for the divorce , blame her for not being able to see him , in reality it was his fault. She was just trying to protect me. I remember being dragged out of the St Louis County jail by my mom because I just wanted to stay with my daddy. I wished I was on the other side of the glass with him. Even though I loved the cards and drawings he sent me from inside the cell , it wasn't the same as having my daddy. His favorite line at the end of every letter he wrote to me was “I love you like a fat kid loves cake”. My mom never made my dad out to be a bad person , sometimes she would lie , making up reasons we couldn't visit him alone , making excuses why he didn't show up. As I got older I started seeing him for the real addict he was. Overhearing doctors tell my mom he overdosed and was in the hospital , just for my mom to tell me he had a heat stroke. I knew something was up , but I wasn't sure what was going on. I couldn't put two and two together , I just hoped he was okay. Fast forward a few years , we all thought my dad was clean , he was doing better , back working a job and my dad started dating my moms best friend, Bridget. I would hang out at her house with my “step siblings' ' , we would go on camping trips , float trips, ride bikes and stay until 3 am playing video games. Deep down I felt like I was betraying my mom , I also felt as if I couldn't leave my dad in case something happened to him. I was stuck in the middle … Until I wasn't. I walked up stairs screaming , Bridget telling my dad to get out and eventually my mom was outside the house , telling me and Cheyenne to get in the car. Now I was really confused ,  until my mom called my grandma , thinking I already knew the situation. She told me Hunter , Bridget's son, stepped on a heroin needle. After this , I wasn't allowed to see my dad for a while , but I wasn't really mad. I just wanted him to get help. Time passed , I missed my dad , I missed our bond and I missed going to the park , watching scary movies that mom said I was too young to watch. By now my dad had a new girlfriend Rhonda , so my mom felt it was safer to be around him since she was there. The first day I went to her apartment my dad wasn't even there but I’m glad I went because I met somebody I now call my big sister , we clicked right away , it was like we knew each other forever , like she was meant to be my sister. We bonded over our trauma we endured , we bonded over our music taste , hobbies , clothes and so much more. Eventually going over there every weekend with my 2 sisters and 1 brother was a normal thing. It was a routine. Now the one weekend I decided to stay home and spend time with my mom , the worst happened. Her phone rang. It was my sister. I couldn't hear anything but by my moms face I knew it was bad. She was asking about an ambulance. Asking about a pulse. Meanwhile every possibility is running through my mind. Was it my sister ? Was it my brother ? No he was just a baby , it can't be him, God please don't let it be him. Finally mom hung up. Tears in my eyes , shaking uncontrollably, I asked what happened. Once again my father overdosed.  In Front of my siblings. I fell into my moms arms , just crying. In my head I wished I was there , I wished I could go back in time and go with my siblings. Maybe I could've stopped it. Thankfully he was still alive.  He acted normal when he called my mom from the hospital phone , he acted like this was just a regular occurance. As if that couldn't kill him. I was angry.  Everytime my moms phone rang I was scared. was my biggest fear , hearing he overdosed , I just prayed he would quit. I was numb at this point , still a child , confused why my dad couldn't just leave drugs alone , confused why he found so much joy in shooting up that he couldn't stop , even if it cost him his children , didn't it hurt? The needles left marks that I noticed every time I ever saw my dad. Even at 16 years old I still search for them in his arms , and pray he makes it to see my brother graduate, to meet his grandkids and to see his babies grow up.

 Second, it was my step mother. Although she has the same name as my fathers ex girlfriend they were two very different people , she was my brothers and sisters mom. She was more like a sister to me than anything. At first her when we met her , her and my mom didn't get along because she was with my dad , my mom was just trying to warn her about his problems. Now at first I felt as if my mom was jealous , I mean I did call both of them mom , but I knew who my real mother was. She was just a 2nd mother figure to me. My biological mom didn't mind that I called her mom , in fact she was perfectly fine with it. I would hang out with Bridget , My dad and my siblings on the weekends. It was nice because they lived right across from my maw maw's house , they lived in an underground house which 8 year old me found so fascinating. Me and my sisters would ride our bikes , play with the neighbors , color , and just have so much fun. We spent Christmas together , and we dressed up for Halloween together. It was always us. Bridget fit right in like a sister she knew when I was upset , when me and my sisters fought she knew how to fix it. I knew her and my father had their own issues and after a few years they went their separate ways. I tried to keep in touch but it was hard since I was young , didn't have my own phone. I do remember her being in jail for a short period of time. Getting letters from her reminded me of my dad, she was such an awesome artist , even on an old piece of notebook paper. She used the same line my dad did “I love you like a fat kid loves cake”. After she got out , I would see her around. When we picked my brother and sister up from their aunts sometimes she would be there visiting. Matter of fact , that's the last time I saw her before I had to see her in a casket. We went to get Bubbie to go to the zoo , I came in to grab him , she gave me a hug , she looked tired. I could tell something was wrong. We had a short conversation and I left. I didn't think that would be the last time hugging her. A few weeks before we got the news she was on facetime with my sister and I grabbed the phone , was rambling on about my middle school relationship , as she proceeded to tell me I was too young to be in love and always put myself first no matter what. Now this was officially my last conversation with Bridget. She was off the grid for a long time , and would pop up to see my sister and brother from time to time. I was worried about her but I knew she was strong , until she wasn't. On December 3rd , I had just woken up. I slept on the couch the night before for a reason I am still unsure of. My sister ran into the bathroom where my mom was showering and the first words I heard were “ Bridget's dead. “ My mouth dropped. But wait , which Bridget?  That's when my mom got out of the shower , threw clothes on and we all hurried to the car. Turned a 20 minute drive into 10 and pulled up at my sister and brothers house. We walked into a lot of tears , I tried to hold back my anger because I knew my sister and brother had it the worst. My sister was 14 , my brother was 7. Way too young to lose their mother. After my sister Kayla calmed down , she told us police found her in a ditch. They presumed her cause of death was an overdose. I was angry , angry at Bridget for not getting help, angry at god for letting this happen , angry at the police for not finding her sooner , angry at myself for not checking on her. The hardest part of this whole situation was telling my brother. He was still a baby in my eyes , he didn't get much time with her. He didn't deserve this , nobody did. At first he was confused. Me and my 3 sisters were piled on the bed just crying. Bubbie asked what was wrong , our excuse was “Sissy stubbed her toe , so we all decided to cry with her”. When my dad arrived he came downstairs with us. We had to tell Bubbie what actually happened. It was hard , he was crying , we all were. Dad told him his mama was in heaven , with their paw paw. He was confused , didn't have a reaction. But I knew he would soon realize he would never see her face again. To this day I know he misses her. I know he wants to cry sometimes , same with my sister , she is now 18 about to graduate and it's been hard on her. No matter how unfortunate this event was , I feel as if everything happens for a reason and this gave my sister so much motivation to make her proud , to do it for her , to succeed. All my siblings are very close but Kayla and Bubbie have a bond nobody can break. Sometimes I sit and look back at pictures , birthday cards she made me , jail letters. I wish I could've saved her. We just celebrated the 3 year anniversary since she’s been gone. We try to remember her the best we can but it's hard knowing we’re all slowly forgetting what her voice sounded like. I wish I could have one last conversation with her. 

There have been so many people I love who have lost themselves to drug abuse. From heroin to cocaine to dope. No matter what drug , they are equally bad. Just this year I lost my cousin who just graduated highschool to an overdose , the same cousin who sat in the hospital with me and my dad when he overdosed. I wish I could have saved him. Drugs ruined my favorite people , and it hurts everyday. I just hope I never endure the addict trait that runs in my blood. I told myself I will never take drugs and I will keep that promise til I die. I never want my siblings to have to think “how didn't I notice” or my mom to think “why didn't she tell me”. I’ve been through the pain and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I know what it's like to cry yourself to sleep , to worry yourself sick , to look at baby pictures and reminisce, wondering where it all went wrong. Why did they feel the need to turn to drugs? Was it me? Could I have stopped them? Was it on purpose? Did they want to die? I know what it's like to watch for needle marks , for pinpoint pupils , for sudden changes in behavior. I know what it's like to be confused because they are throwing their life away. All the potential they had, All the dreams and plans for themselves. I know what it's like to want them to get help , to want them to go to rehab more than they want themselves to. I know what it's like for your heart to drop everytime the phone rings because what if it's “the call”. The call where they finally tell me you're gone for good. It's a never ending cycle. I know what it's like to get bad news and go to school and act normal , tell your family you're okay but as soon as you're alone you let it out. I know how it feels to beg God to save them. I know how it feels to see right through their lies because that's all you're used to. I know what it feels like to have your sadness turn into anger. I know what it's like to be embarrassed when people ask you how your loved one is doing. Just saying “ their okay “ instead of telling the truth. Loving an addict is like grieving the loss of somebody who is still alive. Drugs are poison. 

                               Rest In Peace Bridget Johnson and Terry Long

            Forever in our hearts. 

Mr. Rowley on D1:

Wow, Sierra – this piece is really powerful! Excellent work here.
I don’t know if this piece is a personal narrative or a work of fiction, but I’m responding as a personal narrative since you are both Long.
I did not realize that the overdose in the first section resulted in a death until the very end of the piece. Do you want to be clearer about that in the body of the piece? 
Do you want to include some direct dialog and moment by moment narration? If you don’t remember exactly what people said, it’s ok – you can write what they might have said. Writers do that all the time. 
You have two relatively separate sections and then a concluding section. One option would be to unite the two sections and present a single narrative. The piece might feel more unified that way. You could move through the events chronologically and skip some of the repetition that appears at the beginning of the second section. What do you think?
Divide your text into paragraphs.