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In under an hour, Ma had ripped down the shower curtain because it was “mildewy”, opened all the windows in the house for some “fresh air” despite it being -15 degrees, and torn apart her entire wardrobe, strewing it all over her room. She’d also given Cary two hundred bucks to “go grocery shopping for proper food”. Cary had taken the bills without reminding her that everything was closed on Christmas day and disappeared.

Linette huffed and flopped down on the bed. “I can’t find it!” she shrieked, lighting a smoke and blowing it out the wide-open window.

“Find what, Ma,” Laney asked, exhaustion pickling her voice.

“My favourite leather jacket!”

Laney avoided her eye, not wanting to admit it was currently in her own closet.

“What about this one?” she asked, holding up a thigh-length burgundy leather coat.

“Honestly Laney, what is wrong with you?!” Ma said with a scowl. She held her cigarette out and burned a hole right into the sleeve. “This is trash, you hear me? It’s not even real leather! When are you going to grow up, huh? When are you going to grow out of those ratty t-shirts?”

The vodka was kicking in.

“I don’t know, Ma. They’re comfy, I guess.”

“Come here,” she snapped, and Laney walked over to her. Ma scrutinized her with a scowl, before putting out the cigarette with the toe of her stiletto right there on the bedroom carpet with a hiss. Then she snapped her fingers at Laney. “Grab those pants, right there – no not those… yes. And that top.”

Laney did as she was told and brought them to Ma, who roughly gripped her shirt and yanked it over Laney’s head before unceremoniously tugging down her pants. Laney stood there in just her undies, too tired to feel embarrassed. It wasn’t the first time Ma had played human dolly with her. Laney pulled on the wide-leg Modrobes with a click-belt, and a cropped black fitted off the shoulder shirt, braless, before glancing in the mirror. She looked… kinda hot.

Ma smirked at her, but then her eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips.

“What’s this,” she said, reaching out with her hand and splaying it across Laney’s hip. Laney jumped and looked down, realizing that her mother had laid her hand over top of the bruises on the inside of her hip bone. Bruises from Shane’s thumb.

Ma’s eyes darted to Cary’s room, and then back to Laney.

“I think you’re right,” she said quietly, “comfy is better.”

Laney changed back into her oversized t-shirt.

Ma finished the bottle.