Camila falls back onto her couch, blowing out a mint watermelon cloud of vapor from her neon pink vape. She looks up at the ceiling and sighs, bringing the short glass of vodka to her lips and taking a sip.

“Please tell me that’s water.”

Camilla slowly shifts her gaze to the spot on the couch beside her. Her mother was there, staring her down with that judgemental glare of hers. “It’s not.” Camilla says simply with a shrug. Her mother scoffs in disbelief. “You are unbelievable—and what on earth are you smoking?” Camilla looks at her in silence before finally speaking up.

“You never gave me a chance to help you. You always complained about always having to care for others and no one caring for you. But I did. I cared. I still care. I care enough that it breaks my heart every day that you never asked for my help. You just pulled away from me until a thirty minute phone call a week was all the contact we had. You didn’t talk to me about your life anymore. You alienated me and everyone around you. You surrounded yourself by temporary company that knew nothing about what you were going through.”

“I wish so badly that you just told me what you were feeling at least once. Maybe I wouldn’t have been much help but what if I had been? Why did choose death over me?”

Camilla closes her eyes and wipes tears from her eyes, when she opens them, her mother is gone.

“You didn’t give me a chance to say goodbye.” She whispers. “And there’s nothing I can do about it now. You’re just…gone. And that’s it.”

She downs what’s left of her glass.