You were laid on the floor of you apartment proped against your bedroom wall, needle in hand. Your boyfriend JJ was out with the serpents trusting you on your own after rehab. That was a mistake. You used coke. You had been addicted for a while but stopped after rehab. But your father called again this morning: blaming you for your mothers death again (per usual). You heard the soft click off the door.

“Mamas, where are you?” JJ called, putting his coat down.