“My mother was a junkie too.” She turns her head and looks at me, her dark eyes glistening with tears. Reaching up, I wipe one away and taste it on my thumb. “She cared as long as she could use me. Drug mule, runner, even tried to sell me once. But still I loved her. I got taken away from her a lot, put into homes. But I was what they called a troubled youth. I loved her so much, she was my mother. I always ran away and went back. But it meant back to that life, the life that got me locked in juvie for a while.”
