A bitter laugh escapes me. “We were evicted, remember? You moved in with Matheo. You told me I was an adult now—that I could figure it out on my own.”
Her brow furrows. Confusion flickers, like she’s grasping for something just out of reach. “Did I?”
Of course she doesn’t remember. The part she lost is the part where she threw me away—because I was never worth holding on to in the first place.
“Everything’s been…foggy,” she rushes on. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought if I reported you missing, they’d help me find you.”
The detectives remain silent, watching.
“Why?” I ask. My voice is flat. “Why now?”
Her lips press together. Her eyes dart to the officers, then back to me. “Matheo kicked me out,” she mutters. That name twists something ugly in my chest. “He broke up with me. Said he was done. I don’t have anywhere to go. And he cut me off.”
The last words are barely audible.
There it is.
None of this is about concern or a mother’s love for her child. She’s not even remorseful, just desperate.
“I needed help,” she says, stepping closer. “I thought…I thought you could give me some money. Maybe let me stay with you for a while. Just until I get back on my feet.”
The room goes very still.
“No.” The word leaves my mouth before I even think.
She blinks. “What?”
“I said no.”
Her face hardens. “Millie, don’t be ridiculous. I’m your mother.”
“I know exactly who you are.” The anger that has been simmering inside me finally breaks free. Years of it. Every broken promise. Every lie. Every night I went to bed hungry while she chased her next high. “I’m not giving you money,” I continue. “And you are not staying with me.”
Her expression twists. “You have to. I’m your mother.”
“I’m an adult,” I say, my voice rising. “I can live where I want. With who I want. And I don’t owe you anything.”
The words echo in the room. Her eyes flash with fury.
“After everything I’ve done for you?”
A disbelieving sound tears out of me. “Everything you’ve done? You mean neglect me? Use me? Choose alcohol over me every single time?”
Her chest heaves. The officers shift subtly, tension thickening the air.
“You abandoned me,” I say, quieter now but far more deadly. “You don’t get to show up now and demand anything.”
Something snaps. Her face contorts with rage. “You ungrateful little piece of—”
She lunges.
It happens so fast I barely have time to react. Her hands slam into my shoulders, and then they’re around my throat. Pain explodes as her fingers tighten. I choke, grabbing at her wrists. The chair crashes backward. The room erupts in shouting.
“Let go!”
Strong hands yank her off me. I collapse forward, gasping, my lungs burning. My vision swims as I drag in air.
Mom screams, thrashing as the officers restrain her.
