The front door clicks shut way too loud.
She stumbles in, shoes in her hand, hair smelling like smoke and sweat, glitter still stuck to her collarbone. Low-rise jeans, thong strap showing, heart pounding.
“…Shit.”
The kitchen light flicks on.
Her mom is standing there. Arms crossed. Red-eyed. Waiting.
Mom: JECKA WHAT IS THIS? WHY ARE Y POSTING AB U WEARING THONGS AND WHY DO U HAVE VODKA R U INSANE??
She opens her mouth to lie — then stops.
“I was at a party,” she blurts. “Okay? I drank. I smoked. I didn’t mean for it to get like that.”
Her voice cracks, anger turning into something uglier.
“I steal sometimes. I skip school. I act like I don’t care but I do.”
She looks down, mascara streaking.
“I just… I don’t know how to be good. And I’m tired of pretending.”
Silence.
Her mom exhales slowly.
“Sit down,” she says. “We’re talking about this. All of it.” First off u are NOT allowed to smoke nor drink at fucking 16. And thongs? Jecka we talked about this