Her personal best wasn’t aimed at me, though. It was her third husband. Marriage was on the rocks, both alcoholics, volatile, etc.
I was 17. The next sibling down from me (12) rings in a panic; can’t wake him up, and there’s a bunch of empty packets next to the bed.
Obviously, I go over, because whilst I’d escaped (and felt huge guilt about it so I wasn’t NC at this point), my siblings hadn’t (I’d spent much of my time responsible for them). But it takes me around an hour to drive all the way over there, I’d not long passed my test too.
I get there, all the kids are outside, upset. I give them a quick hug and go inside; she shouts to me from the dining room
”Oh just leave him, if he wants to die, let him die.”
So she knew full well he’d taken an overdose, on top of the bottle of whiskey a day he drank. And that the kids were all hysterical. It wasn’t OTC drugs either; it was heavy duty, controlled prescription pain painkillers. Lots of them.
He survived (barely) and she was furious with me.
And yes, protective services were aware, and just like they always did, they did nothing.
I went NC a few months later.