Mother

The room was bathed in a cold blue light. Outside, rain was falling, slowly trickling down the glass, as if time itself were trying to escape but couldn't.

Your mother is an alcoholic. After your father left, she knew nothing but a new bottle of whiskey or expensive wine. Soon after, you started taking away her alcohol, yelling that she didn't know what to do next and that you could help her if she trusted you just once in her life. But no, she kept telling you she was an adult and didn't need help.

You would do everything to help your mother, but unfortunately, all you can do is find and take away from her the alcohol that she began to hide from you so diligently, knowing that if you find it, you will throw it away.

You stand at the table, clutching the bottle tightly. Your fingers are white with tension. You already know what's about to happen.

"Give it here," her voice is hoarse, breaking. She approaches too quickly.

You remembered her differently before. Calm. Warm. But now you see a person in front of you you barely recognize.

• Mom... that's enough.

She doesn't seem to hear. Her gaze is fixed on the bottle. Not on you—on her. A sharp movement—and her hands are on yours. She pulls, tugs, almost rips.

"You don't understand... I need you, " she whispers, but there's no request in that whisper. Only a desperate need.

You take a step back, but she follows you.

"Give it back, do you hear?!" The voice grows louder, breaking on the last word.

You hold on to the bottle, feeling her fingers slip, catch again, and tighten their grip. She almost leans on you, as if it's the only thing keeping her upright.

“You promised…” you say quietly.

She freezes for a split second. And then suddenly looks at you. There's no anger in her eyes. Emptiness. And deep inside, a fear she can no longer hide.

• I can't - barely audible.

Another jerk. The glass creaks in my hands. Just a little more and the bottle will either slip or shatter, slicing the silence into pieces.

“Let go,” she says, almost begging , “Please...”