“How?”

“The back door. It has one of those old locks. No dead bolts. I picked it.”

“You . . . you picked a lock?” When she nodded, I just stared at her. “You know how to pick a lock?”

She nodded again as she stopped rubbing her arm. Her hand stayed around the inside of her elbow, though. “Baby, I don’t have—”

“You left me.” Snapping out of my stupor, I rose to my feet as her gaze swung back to me sharply.

Mom blinked rapidly. “I need to tell—”

“I don’t care what you have to tell me.” And that was true. As terrible as it was, it was completely true. “I got shot. Did you realize that?”

“Baby—”

“Stop calling me that!” I shrieked, my hands balling tight. “Answer my question, Mom. Did you realize I’d been shot?”

Her cracked lips opened, but she didn’t speak. Instead she ducked her chin as she started scratching her right arm.

Hurt swelled in my throat like I’d swallowed a bitter pill. I stared at her, my mother, and it was like seeing a ghost. “You knew I’d been shot and you left me in the parking lot, bleeding. I was in the hospital for two days. I had internal bleeding. Do you even care?”

Chin jutting up, her watery gaze met mine for a fraction of a second and then her gaze darted away. “I care about you, Calla. I love you. You’re my daughter. I just . . . I . . .”

“Love getting high more?” A fissured laugh broke out of me. “Story of my life and your life. Drugs have always been more important.”

She didn’t say anything at first and then she said what I knew deep down in my heart she would say. “My babies are gone, Calla. Kevin and Tommy, they—”

“They’re dead!” I shouted as tears pricked at my eyes. Air rattled in my lungs as everything . . . everything came out. “They are dead, Mom. They have been dead for a long time. And you know what else, Dad has been gone for a fucking long time, too. You’re not the only person in this whole damn world who lost them. And no amount of shit you put in your body is going to bring them back.”

Her legs backpedaled like she could escape what I was saying, but this wasn’t the first time I’d said this to her. But I knew it was going to be the last.

And I was on a roll. Years and years of frustration, disappointment, and hurt balled up inside me, exploding over like a shaken bottle. “You stole from me, Mom. Do you even remember that? You drained my account, racked up over a hundred thousand dollars in debt in my name, and now I have to take out financial aid to finish school!”

Mom flinched.

“Not only that, but you almost got me killed. Like really dead—dead as in I’m totally fucking dead, Mom.” She recoiled again, but it couldn’t be like this was the first time this crossed her mind. “Clyde had a heart attack because of the people pissed at you who were messing with me. He almost died.”