I smelled it before I saw it, and when I walked into the living room, sure enough there it was- three empty bottles and alcohol spilled all over the floor.  I went around the house only to find him laying on his bed with another empty bottle in his hand.  This has to stop; I don't know how much more I can deal with.  Ever since Mom left us seven months ago, this is all I see when I come home every night.  I'm stuck cleaning up the house every night so people don't see what really goes on here. 
I scrub the carpet until my hands and arms hurt, then give up, and put everything else in the trash that he left laying around.  I fix myself a grilled cheese and sit on the couch in silence.  My brother, Nick, walked in through the garage door and immediately smells the alcohol from the carpet that I was unable to get completely clean. 
"Where is he?" Nick asked.
"Passed out on his bed. You want a grilled cheese," I said as I held up my plate that I haven't touched.
"No, not hungry." He took a deep breath and sat down next to me without saying another word.  We both sat there on the couch, in silence, starring at the wall. 
I know it's hard on Nick having to take care of his little sister with no help and having to pay for everything, including all the bills, since dad does nothing but get drunk and pass out.  I try to help out as much as I can, but I know it's not enough considering there is not much I can do at 15 years old.

I woke up the next morning to banging on my bedroom door.  I already knew who it was; the only person in this house that would get mad and break stuff for no reason. 
"What?" I said as I opened the door.
"Where's your brother?"
"Did you check in his room?" I said then quickly realizing that I sounded like a smart-ellick
"Don't be a smart-ass!" He quickly snapped back and hit me across the face.  I shut my door as he walked away.  I climbed back in bed trying not to cry and hoping I could get a few more hours of sleep.  Next thing I knew, he was banging on Nick's door.  Since there was no way I was getting any more sleep, I got dressed and went for a walk.  I didn't want to listen to Nick and dad scream at each other all morning like they usually did.  I got to the end of the street when I heard my friend, Rachel, who was out running around the neighborhood, call my name.  I turned around and waited for her to catch up to me.
"What are you doing up so early?" she asked me trying to catch her breath.
"Just had to get out of the house."
"That bad, huh?"
"Just like it always is."
She walked with me for about thirty minutes until we ended up back at my house.  When I walked inside, Nick pushed me back outside and told me to get in the car. 
We drove around town for a little bit, then went over to Sam's house, one of Nick's friends.  I played with Sam's daughter, who was almost five months, while Nick and Sam talked.  We ended up spending the day there and then decided to crash there for the night. 
The next morning we decided to go back home and maybe try to talk to dad about everything.  We got to the house as soon as an ambulance was pulling out of our driveway with the sirens and lights going off.

***

Not many people showed up, which didn't surprise me; he was mean and terrible to everyone he encountered.  I walked up to the tombstone and layed his baseball cap he always wore beside it, then walked back and stood beside Nick.  He put his arm around my shoulder as we watched them lower the casket into the ground.