Content warning: drug addiction

Ellie had not laughed or smiled in over a week. But with her mother there, she could not rid her cheeks of the grin that had been glued on for the past several hours. Not that she wanted to. She was finally with her mother for the first time in seven years, and she never wanted it to end.

"You were the best baby," Eleanor said, sitting cross-legged across from Ellie on her bed. What remained of the snacks from her trip to the store with Joe were spread across the mattress. Empty chip bags and crumpled candy wrappers were strewn about without much thought to tidiness. "You never cried. The neighbors didn't even know you were there for a month. As soon as Miss Helen across the hall found out, she made, like, ten loaves of bread."

Ellie laughed and the smile lingered on her lips. She remembered Miss Helen—or at least that they had a neighbor with that name.

"How come I never met my grandparents," Ellie asked.

"They didn't like that I wanted to keep you. I was so young... your age now. There's not much to tell about them. They kicked me out, I changed my name, and then they died."

Eleanor's eyes glazed over at the memories she suppressed of her parents. Even though Ellie wanted to seize the opportunity to know more about her mom and where she came from, she changed up her barrage of questioning.

"Did I have friends?"

Eleanor's face lit up again.

"You made friends with every living creature that crossed your path. People, cats, toads... One day, for no reason at all, you gave every one of your friends at school a dandelion. You stayed up all night picking weeds, and you were furious when I almost threw them out."

Ellie laughed again at a vague memory she'd forgotten, where she scrutinized over the biggest and brightest yellow flowers behind their apartment building.

"You were perfect," Eleanor said. "You still are. My brave baby."

Ellie's smile and eyes fell. She shifted her weight against the mattress.

"I don't feel brave."

Eleanor leaned forward and lifted her daughter's chin. Matching emerald eyes met each other with despair for what could have been, but hopeful for what could be.

"You are my daughter, and you are the bravest person I've ever met."

Ellie hunched in on herself, but held her mother's gaze.

"Did you look for me?"

Eleanor's forehead wrinkled and her lips pressed together. The pain on her face made Ellie wish she'd kept her question to herself.

"You disappeared without a trace. And when they told me you were probably dead, I—there wasn't anything I could do."

Ellie nodded in shaky agreement.

"I'll be right back," Ellie said quietly. She excused herself for the privacy of the bathroom, leaving Eleanor alone on her bed.

Over seven years, her mother had not looked for her once. It was as she said: there was nothing to be done. She couldn't go knocking on every door in Los Angeles. It wasn't like there were flashing signs above the basement screaming, "She's here! She's here!"

Ellie had resigned herself long ago to the fact that her mother gave up on her. She preached it to herself in the basement to avoid hope. Hope could be crushed. If she had nothing to destroy, then she would not have to go through the disappointment of losing it. So why was she so affected now?

Straightening her shoulders, Ellie marched back into her bedroom, where Eleanor had migrated to the edge of the bed.

She padded over and sank next to her mom. The lighthearted reminiscing from moments before was replaced with a somber air.

Ellie gripped the edge of the mattress and looked at Eleanor, a curtain of hair falling over her eye.

"Did you ever use drugs before He took me?"

Eleanor stiffened, which caused Ellie to shy away. She immediately hated that she had asked. But she could not even remember if she had friends or not. She just needed to be sure that her unreliable memory was not all that unreliable.

"No," she said, keeping her eyes trained on the floor. "I didn't start using until a year after. When I finally accepted that you weren't coming back. It... it helped. Some. At least helped me to forget."

As Ellie swung her legs back and forth, the tips of her toes grazed the rug.

"But I did come back."

Eleanor glanced sideways at Ellie. "You did."

"And now we can be together again. Like you promised. You're going to get better, and you'll go to Christmas with us in the mountains, and we'll see snow at Joe and Tessa's cabin. Because we've never seen snow before. And... you know, maybe after, we could be a family with Joe and Tessa?"

Eleanor's sealed lips turned up into a smile, and Ellie's heart soared. While she was desperate to be back with her mom, she could not imagine losing Joe and Tessa. She didn't mind not living in their expensive house. In fact, sometimes she longed for the simplicity of a two-bedroom apartment over the grandeur of their pseudo-mansion in the Hills. What she would miss the most was their kindness, their gentle understanding, their knack for always knowing the right thing to say. When she was around them, she felt safe and secure.

What Ellie wanted most was to be close with everyone—Joe, Tessa, and her mom. And with Eleanor there, in the house she said she did not belong in, it actually seemed possible.

"It's about time for bed," Eleanor announced decidedly. Ellie nodded in agreement, realizing that sunrise was just a few measly hours away. They would have to be out the door early if they wanted to beat the unforgiving Los Angeles traffic.

She nestled next to her mother under blankets of fabric and food wrappers. Eleanor radiated warmth beneath the covers, so Ellie scooched in closer.

That night, Ellie was not afraid to fall asleep. Knowing her mother was safe and that they would be together again soon, she drifted off into peaceful sleep.

The peace did not last long, though.

Ellie's eyes opened to the gray sunrise of a promisingly cloudy day. Stretching her arms, her hand fell against wrinkled bed sheets that still held a slight bit of warmth. Ellie blinked into full consciousness and realized that she was alone. But a light rustling from downstairs told her that her mother had not gone far.

Thinking that Eleanor was probably too restless to sleep, Ellie headed downstairs. The rustling turned into a light rattling, then stopped. Going to rehab could not have been an easy decision. She wanted her mother to know she cared about her, and that she would be there to support her every step of the way.

At the bottom of the steps, Eleanor was too busy draping one of Tessa's coats over her arm to notice her daughter.

"What are you doing?"

Eleanor spun around at the quiet voice, startled by the unexpected presence. Ellie stared at her mother with wide, confused eyes. Eleanor's hand fell from the door handle, and Ellie's hope shattered.

"You're leaving me?"

Eleanor raised her hands, like her daughter were a dangerous force that needed to be tamed.

"No. No, I'm not leaving you. I just didn't want you to have to say goodbye—"

"What's that?"

Ellie pointed to the bulging pocket of Tessa's coat dangling from Eleanor's arm. The bulky contents rattled at the slightest movement, and a sliver of bright orange poked out the top. Eleanor fumbled to conceal the bulging pocket.

"It's nothing."

Ellie's forehead wrinkled. She stepped forward to further inspect the pocket's contents. Eleanor dodged the advance, but the quick motion sent one of the objects clattering to the floor.

The plastic orange bottle rolled across the floor like an aluminum can, the pills inside falling over each other in a deafening din until they settled at Ellie's feet.

With carefully bent knees, she pinched the ends of the bottle between her thumb and finger to inspect the label. When she read the name printed in black ink, her face fell.

"These are mine."

Ellie's eyes slowly rose to meet Eleanor's, who looked as if she were afraid of her own daughter.

"Baby, please..."

Eleanor began to beg for her life like Ellie had to the day she nearly died, and every day before that. But Ellie was the only one with enough hope to be destroyed, and she was done with letting people who cared more about themselves take what little she had left. She clutched the orange bottle in a closed fist.

"Get out."

"Ellie—"

"Out!"

Two pairs of footsteps stampeded down the stairs and paused behind Ellie.

"What's going on," Joe asked upon inspecting the scene.

"She's leaving," Ellie said, maintaining her stare of daggers at her mother, condemning Eleanor's false pleas for forgiveness. "And she's not coming back."

Eleanor had been planning her heist and escape from the moment she walked through the door. She was no longer capable of loving her daughter; she could only manipulate her. But Ellie had been controlled enough for one lifetime.

"Ellie, I can explain—"

"I said, get out!" Ellie shoved her palms against Eleanor, pushing her backwards towards the door and causing her to drop the stolen coat. More orange bottles clattered to the floor in a chorus of clinking and rattling. Every medication Ellie had taken since being discharged from the hospital—even the ones she no longer took but never finished—rolled across the floor.

Ellie's face twisted as she fought back angry tears. Tessa stepped next to her in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

"Eleanor, let's talk about this in private."

"No," Ellie yelled through tears. "I want her gone."

Eleanor cowered by the door. As soon as empty and meaningless apologies began to spill from her lying tongue, Ellie stopped her.

"Save it." She nudged the closest pill bottle with her toe. The little orange bottle rolled towards Eleanor, and the pills inside shuffled together. "Get wasted, for all I care."

Turning her back on her mother, she began to trudge up the stairs, leaving Joe, Tessa, and Eleanor in stunned silence. Her hand slid along the rail, but her knuckles were white above her tight grip.

Before she got too far up, she paused. Looking back at the floor, but not at her mother, she added, "I never want to see you again."