That night, I found myself sitting on my windowsill, thinking about everything that had been going on. From the conversation I had with my mother, the situation with Tiffany and Kayla, all the way to my recent makeover, it was a lot to digest. I wasn't entirely sure if I was doing the right thing in any of these situations.

I felt especially unsure of how to deal with Irene. My brain swirled with conflicting thoughts.

I mean, what kind of a person does that? I wondered. I get it. She wasn't sober, and she wasn't clear minded, but I'd rather have taken care of myself in her house rather than in an orphanage and on the streets.

Then there was the fact that she had a child and didn't come get me. My little sister had a mom while I wasn't able to.

Maybe I could be over it by now if that she didn't exist. Maybe not. Did I even want to meet her? My goodness, I am so tired of being angry, hurt and confused.

It was hard not to be confused. I always expected to be angry at her, and never see her again, but she seemed to pull it together and want me back, faster than I could have ever anticipated.

Maybe, even with all her mistakes she still wanted me around. Underneath the anger, and the guilt, maybe she loves me and I had just been unwilling to accept it.

Until now.

I knew I couldn't live with my mother again. It would be too much for me – probably for her too. I couldn't handle the thought of being in that house again, and I loved living with Linda, Jay and Lorraine. They were family to me.

I could, however, imagine potentially going out to lunch with Irene, maybe the mall... Maybe I could meet my sister...

Do we have the same hair colour? Or even the same eyes? Did she look more like our mother or our father?Would we get along? Be best friends? Would she look up to me and be able to depend on me the way I never could depend on anyone else?

Suddenly, my phone rang, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the time and saw it read 2:46 am. I knew who it was, and my heart flipped a little in my chest with worry.

"Mason?" My breathing was shallow – which hurts my broken ribs – and I felt nervous.

"Charlie," he whispered. "I'm okay." Oxygen could reach lungs once again. "I-I just needed to talk to you." I knew what he meant, and I was proud of him for calling.

"Well, I'm glad you called. I was already awake, so don't worry."

"Okay." There was silence on the other line for a moment. "I relapsed the night before you got hit by a car."

"Well, you're still three weeks clean," I replied encouragingly, after doing the math in my head. "Slips happen, it's okay."

"I was up tonight, and thought I might call before I thought too much," he mumbled.

"I'm glad you did," I replied sincerely. "I'm here for you."

"What are you doing up, Ginger?" He asked lightly, trying to change the subject.

"Thinking," I chuckled. "I had another nightmare, so I just –a"

"Please tell me you're not up on the windowsill!" Mason groaned, making me laugh.

"Relax Green Eyes, I've perfected the art," I told him. Mason snickered on the other line, making me smile.

"Okay, but how'd you do it with a broken arm?"

"Carefully," I teased. Mason let out a loud laugh at my response.

"Well, I better hear that you come down the same way you got up," he told me. I giggle, leaning my head against the window frame.

"Don't you worry about me... I always figure it out," I reminded him.

There was something sobering about saying that out loud. I might always think that things were spiralling out of my control, but sometimes I just needed to take a step back and realize that I would figure it out... because I always have.

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Author's Note: Classic Charlie and her windowsills haha! Hope you liked this chapter! A new one will be up next week! <3