Humiliated And Alone.

Quinn

Mom's head snaps toward me, and for a moment—just one horrible moment—she looks completely lucid. Aware. Like she knows exactly where she is and what she's doing and how badly this is going to hurt.

Then her face crumples, and she takes a staggering step toward me, the bottle swinging dangerously in her hand.

"Quinn," she says, my name thick on her tongue. "Baby, you have to—you have to tell him—"

"Mom, what are you—" I can't finish the sentence. Can't process what I'm seeing.

My mother. My mother who left two years ago and hasn't contacted us since. My mother who chose wine over her family, who chose escape over staying, who chose anything over us.

My mother who is now standing drunk in the middle of my university campus, screaming my father's name, falling apart in front of everyone I know.

"He did this!" She gestures wildly with the bottle. "Your father—Jesse—he ruined everything! He—"

"Mom, please." I step forward, my hands raised like I'm approaching a wild animal. "Please,