There she is, sitting on the edge of her hospital bed, looking small, fragile, vulnerable. Hesitantly, I step a little closer. She turns towards me, and, although she definitely does not expect to see me here, can't realistically be expecting to see me here, or anywhere else for that matter, she recognizes me instantly.

"You," she says, accusation turning this one word into a hollow point. It hits its target, spinning me around, but at the last minute I manage to stop my feet from stepping through the doorway. My jaw is clenched so hard, it could have probably stopped a genuine hollow point single-handedly. I look at her, unable to pry my lips apart. I register the mixture of hope and hatred on her face. Behind her I catch a glimpse of myself in the miniature mirror above the tiny hospital table next to her bed. My face looks oddly blank, belying the fire that is raging inside of me.

"I'm surprised that you are aware that I'm actually still alive." Her voice drips sarcasm, her eyes drip desperation. I stare at her.

"Well, if that's all, you may leave now," she adds.

I force myself to take another step into the room, another step closer to her.

"I ..., I ..., I ...," I stutter, words obviously having left me.

"Yeah, 'I', your favourite word, I know. Now that you've confirmed this little truth, I'd say it's time for you to leave."

"I'm not leaving," I grit out between jaws still clenched as tight as a vise, then nearly chuckle at the irony of the situation. The sad truth is that she does not want me to leave, ever, while my whole body is poised to flee. "Not yet, anyway," I clarify quickly, before the wrong idea takes seed in her mind. She knows what I mean. Of course, she does. We've been here before.

"That says everything, doesn't it? You don't want me. You don't care what will happen to me. You have forgotten about all the sacrifices I made. The needs I had that I ignored so yours could be met."

I sigh. "I never asked you to make those sacrifices, mother. You made those choices; you, not I. And while I am grateful, I am now making my own choices."

"'Choices'." She is nearly screeching now. "Handing your only child over to some stranger for the better part of the week so that you can fulfil some perverted dream of 'being someone'?" She is using her fingers to make air quotation marks. "I gave up my future so you could have one."

"And now you are denying me this future, mom," I sigh. "I'll help you to help yourself. I'll support you financially. You know I will, mother."

"Your fat wallet buying you out of yet another annoying family situation?" Venom laces her vocal cords.

"This is not about money! Why can't you see that, mum? It's about my life, my choices, my sacrifices." She snorts. "Yes, sacrifices. You might have sacrificed your career so that you were able to raise me. I'm choosing to sacrifice time with my family so that I can give my only child a head start in life. Times have changed, mother."

"If those times mean that it is okay to abandon your mother, then I am inconsolable that the pills I took were not strong enough."

I can see tears glistening in her eyes. The woman in the bed next to my mother who had been listening to our conversation unabashedly is shaking her head at me. That's nothing new either. I'm a single mum. Shocker. I work. Bad mum. I won't give up my life for my elderly mother. Ungrateful bitch.

For the first time in ages, I take my mother's hand. "Mum, I believe we love each other, but we really don't like each other. I'll be leaving a cheque with the nurses. That should cover everything."

Before she can respond, I pivot and hurry out the door. I flinch when the door slams shut, guilt eating me alive, necessity forcing my feet.