Gemma flinched, then shook it off. She took off her sunglasses and walked farther into the house. She found Nathalie in the dining room, standing next to the table and glaring at the staff on the other side. Nathalie’s stance was wide and her eyes were wild, making her look like an animal about to pounce.

“Nathalie,” Becky said, keeping her tone soothing. “Your daughter drove all this way to see you. You should at least say hi to her.”

“Hi, Mom.” Gemma waved when Nathalie glanced over at her.

“Gemma, get me out of here,” Nathalie said, returning her angry glare to the staff opposite her. She grabbed the chair in front of her and shook it so it would bang loudly on the floor. “Get me out of here!”

“Nathalie!” Becky moved closer to her, holding her hands up, palms out. “If you want to visit with your daughter, then you need to calm down. This behavior is not tolerated, and you know it.”

Nathalie stepped back from the chair and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her eyes darted around the room, and she seemed unable to focus on anything as she thought through her next move.

“Fine.” She nodded once. “Gemma, let’s go to my room.”

Nathalie practically ran to her room, and Gemma followed her. Becky was telling Nathalie that she still had to behave, or her daughter would have to leave. As soon as they were in her room, Nathalie slammed the bedroom door shut.

“Bitch,” Nathalie muttered at the closed door.

Ordinarily when Gemma visited, her mom’s room was pretty clean. Not because Nathalie was clean or organized, but because the staff would get on her if it was too messy. Today it was a total disaster area. Clothes, CDs, jewelry—everything was thrown about her room. Her stereo was smashed in a corner, and her beloved Justin Bieber poster was torn in half.

“Mom, what happened today?” Gemma asked.

“You have to get me out of here.” Nathalie grabbed a pink backpack from a pile in the middle of the floor, then flew around the room, grabbing clothes and junk to fill it with. “You have a car, right?”

“My car’s broken.” She toyed with the sunglasses in her hands and watched her mother trying to shove a Velcro Reebok into her bag, even though the bag was already overflowing. “Mom, I can’t take you away from here.”

Nathalie instantly stopped what she was doing, half crouched on the floor with the shoe and bag still in her hands, and glared up at her daughter. “Then why did you come here, if you’re not taking me away? Did you come here just to rub it in my face?”