Tears streamed down the bridge of my nose, pooling at the tip and dripping to the carpet. Soon, I couldn’t control the sobs rattling my body, and all I could think about was how unfair it was that my parents dropped this bomb on me and took all the liquor in the house. Mother couldn’t even pack without consuming two bottles of wine to calm her nerves.

“Miss Ellison!” Maricela said, crouching in front of me. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

When I looked up at her, she used her apron to wipe my eyes. “No one’s going to hire me, Maricela. I’m the town drunk.”

“Not for the last two days, you’re not.”

“I can’t do this,” I cried. “I have no idea how to do this. They’re just throwing me to the wolves.”

Maricela rubbed my arms. “That’s how I learned to swim, muñequita. Sometimes we have to be thrown in, or we’ll never do it on our own.”

“I messed up,” I said, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “I hurt Finley.” I looked up, my bottom lip quivering. “She doesn’t even know it yet. All I can think about is getting high to make it go away.”

Maricela touched my cheek. “It won’t go away unless you face it. Admit to your mistakes, and then make amends.”

The little resolve I had left crumbled. “She won’t forgive me. Not this time.”

“Miss Ellison, is this about the place where José took you? To the Planned Parenthood? What did they say? What did they do?”

I sniffed. The pregnancy test came back negative, and it had been more than two weeks since I’d been tested for STDs, and they hadn’t called about results. With Planned Parenthood, no news was good news.

“Finley is your sister. She loves you the most. She wants the best for you.”

I began to sob again. “I really fucked up this time. I can’t believe I’m that person. Someone who would…” I shook my head again, despondent. “I’ve thought so many times since it happened that maybe it would be easier if … I can’t do this.” I looked Maricela in the eyes, solemn.

“I don’t understand,” Maricela said, worried.

“I just want it to be over.” The words sounded insincere, such a powerful statement with so little emotion. I wondered if that’s how Betsy felt about her own end—too damaged to feel anything but numb.

Maricela took my chin between her fingers. “Niña, no more of this. The Ellison who is destructive and full of anger … go on. Kill her. But you can live.”

I tried to look away, but she wouldn’t let me.