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telling the truth.
    I dropped my chin onto my chest and stared down at my hands, twisting grooves into my comforter. Purple and blue branched from my knuckles to my wrists. They were so swollen, each movement of my fingers caused a sharp lance of pain. My skin was flaky.
    Try again . “Mom—”
    â€œSave it. Obviously I can’t control you, and like I said I’m tired of trying. I’m worn-out. I’m so stressed I can’t sleep anymore. I have headaches all the time now. I have no social life, no friends. I’m too busy chasing after you.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” I whispered.
    â€œI—I just can’t do this anymore.”
    My head whipped up, and I peered at her with dread. “Don’t send me back to rehab. Please. I didn’t use. I didn’t! All I want to do is make you proud.”
    â€œStop,” she bit out harshly, cutting me off again. “Just stop.”
    Tears filled my eyes, burning hotly. I scratched my arms, staring at her, trying to will her to believe me.
    â€œThe guy who brought you home told me he sent his own daughter to a special bootcamp for wayward teenagers.” She faced me fully, her expression sad, determined. “He gave me the number. I’ve already called them. The director wasn’t there, but he’s going to call me as soon as he’s in.”
    A gasp split my lips. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t send me away again. I just got back. Give me a chance. I’m trying to put my life together again.”
    She remained firm and unbending. “If they’ll have you, you’re going. End of discussion.” With that, she left my room, shutting the door with a soft click.
    Â 
    I spent the rest of the weekend in my room. I wanted to call and check on my friends, but I was forbidden from using the phone. No way would I disobey Mom now. I didn’t need more trouble. Besides, they had to be okay. One or all of the news stations would have reported if anything had happened to them. Not that anyone had reported on the attack.
    Which made me think of Ryan when he’d said, “So the media reports everything now?”
    Perhaps they weren’t as open and honest as I’d assumed.
    What else didn’t I know about?
    I sighed. Most of my time was spent drinking water. Sucking it down, really, unable to get enough. I stared at the holophotos on my wall, animated pictures of me and Jamie playing in my backyard. We laughed and hugged each other.
    They’d been snapped before either of us had started using.
    She’d been the first to try it. When she told me how it numbed her inside and out, I’d begged for a taste. I’d been so happy at first. I’d thought nothing could hurt me. Now I knew.
    I left my bedroom door open and caught my mother walking down the hall a few times. She’d look at me and tear up, but she wouldn’t stop. Finally, on her fifth trip, I tried to make her talk to me. I hopped from my bed and rushed to the door, hands braced on the frame.
    â€œWe can work this out, Mom. We just have to try.”
    She halted abruptly, her back to me. She didn’t turn around when she said, “We can’t. We always end up here, with you strung out and me stressed out. I’m sorry.”
    I didn’t know how to respond to that because it was true.
    She laughed bitterly. “Maybe if I’d been a better wife, your dad wouldn’t have taken off and started another family. He would be here, and you would obey him.”
    â€œWe don’t need him.” I hadn’t forgiven him for the way he’d left us without warning. I hadn’t forgiven him for not contacting us since. It was as if we didn’t exist to him anymore.
    A part of me missed him, yes. Sometimes I cried for him, wondering what I’d done wrong, wondering if there was anything I could have done differently to make him stay. But I still hated him with everything inside of