You went out to a party with a few of your friends, promising Vanessa you wouldn't drink or take anything- because you had been sober for a few months and you had a bad history with drugs and alcohol.

But it wasn't your fault.

You stumbled up the hill of her house, yearning for comfort from the older woman, especially since you immediately knew what had happened to you.

You knocked on the door, heels in hands as you hissed a little at the pounding ache in your head.

The door opened and Vanessa groaned. "What--" Her eyes locked on you and she frowned, "Baby, I thought-" She cleared her throat and her eyes drifted over you.

Bloodshot eyes, dilated pupils, smudged mascara- from tears, no doubt.

"What happened?" She spoke quietly, you weren't meant to be home this early and you had told her you'd go straight back to your house, not hers.

"I didn't mean to," You choke out, walking forwards into the house as you drop your heels onto the floorboards, she reached behind you and closed the door softly. "I didn't mean to take anything."

Fuck.

Her eyes widened slightly at the confession, she knew you had taken something at the party, she could see it, but she assumed she'd have to dig it out of you.

"Someone gave me a mocktail and- and it was laced, I don't know what-" She reached forwards, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling your body against hers.

"I'm not mad," She whispers softly to you, "You're safe- you're okay, honey, I promise I'm not mad, it wasn't your fault."