3:15 [fezco]

sixteen

S I X T E E N - L O V E   I S   G O N E

"i'm sorry, don't leave me. i want you hear with me. i know that your love is gone. i can't breathe, i'm so weak, i know this isn't easy. don't tell me that your love is gone."

---

By the time I got home, my good foot was sore, and my face was rubbed raw from crying. I spent the entirety of the walk imagining myself running back to Fez, jumping in his arms, and apologizing for just how nasty our fights had been. Of course, I knew this would be a bad idea. But the thought made me feel just a bit better about how fucked up my life had gotten in the last week.

To compound the problem, my heartbreak was paired with intense cocaine cravings and irritability from how long it had been since I snorted my last line, leading me to crouch in a random alley just before I got home to get my fix. But to top off my shitty day, when I entered the house, my mom was sitting at the dining room table waiting for me.

"Where have you been?" Her voice was firm and scratchy. I internally rolled my eyes, throwing my purse to the floor by the door before slamming it.

"I was out," I replied curtly, spinning to face her. "Just like I told you I'd—" My eyes fell on my makeup bag that sat in front of her before focusing on the multitude of small, clear bags that she seemingly pulled out of it. "Did you go through my stuff?"

"Seriously?" She snapped. "You're looking at hundreds of dollars of drugs that I found in your room, and the only thing you can think to say is to ask me if I went through your stuff?"

"Yeah, because it's an invasion of my privacy."

"You can't expect privacy when you're lying to me about where you're going and what you're doing." She slammed her hand on the table.

"Yeah, like you've ever really been around for me to tell you about my life." I scoffed. Hurt flashed across her face but it was gone the second it came as she rose to her feet and pointed an accusing finger at me.

"Do not speak to me that way, Sophia Brooke."

"Why, because the truth hurts?" I had to admit that it wasn't my mother that I was mad at. She was doing what she thought was best to protect me. However, the longer she stood in front of me suddenly choosing to act like a mother figure, the angrier I got.

"No, it doesn't. You seem to be forgetting that my job, you know, the thing that constantly keeps me away, is what paid for your fucking habits." She paused, taking a deep breath before collecting the bags from the table. "I won't have a drug addict living in my house."

"Then I'll leave." Another look of irrefutable hurt fell on her face, but this time it stayed.

"You would choose drugs over living here with your mother?" She shook her head, stepping forward and using her free hand to grip my face, looking me over. "You're high, aren't you?" A beat. "No, absolutely not. You're 17, you're not going to be a fucking strung-out drug addict." She began to walk out of the room, but I stepped in front of her, eyeing my drugs in her hand.

"Where are you going?"

"To flush these. And then I'm going to call the hospital, and I'm going to get you into a detox program." I gripped her arm tightly as she tried to pass.

"No!" I raised my voice, desperately reaching out for what sat in her hand.

"Let go of me, Sophia—"

"No, mom. You can't—"

"Sophia!—"

"You can't fucking take them—" My face stung as her hand met it, causing me to take a large step back. My lip quivered as she threw the bags on the ground by my feet, and I immediately knelt to pick them up. Before I grabbed them, I heard a loud sob. When I looked up at her, she was crying too.