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Anguish at my mother's indifference thrashed and clawed its way up my throat. It coiled tightly like a vise around my neck intent on choking me. I stood paralyzed as she launched a plastic cup against the wall in fury. The loud thud rang in the room like a prelude to an impending disaster.

The light from Mason's phone sprang into view. The unsent number glared at me while his words replayed in my head. But I didn't have time to think about it further as the door to the apartment swung open.

Mason took a few steps inside and surveyed the situation. His eyes locked on mine. Frantically, I trudged around my oblivious mother and came upon Mason.

"Coming in without knocking isn't polite." Although I had tried to joke, my tone was so fraught with anxiety that I know I couldn't fool him.

"Abbi, please, you can't keep doing this," he implored.

I licked my lips to alleviate the sudden dryness in my mouth and attempted to calm down. "It's okay. I-I'll be okay."

I started nudging him out of the apartment. He resisted.

"Please, you don't need to stay."

I shook my head and ran an unsteady hand across my brow. As always, I had choices. Many choices that I could take. But there were also consequences to each choice I had. What if I did leave? What would happen? What would she do to herself? Would she follow me and hurt Mason?

"Mason! Is that you?" chirped Mother, her mood shifting drastically at the sight of him. "You've gotten so big since the last time I saw you. How long has it been? Two-three years?"

I bit my tongue, not wanting to remind her that it's been two to three weeks -- a few days if you count when she was passed out Tuesday morning.

"Mama, Mason is busy right now. He can't stay and talk," I said.

I started to push against him again, desperately wanting him to leave, but he wouldn't budge. I could feel his entire body tense with anger. With a surprising show of strength, he jerked me behind him and stood himself between me and my mother. His tall slender body blocked the view of her, and I had to wonder as I stared at his broad shoulders, when it was that Mason grew up.

"It's fine, I can stay," he commented tightly.

"Good, that's good!" she exulted then wasted no time in getting to the point, "Hey, I really hate to ask this of you, but do you happen to have $30 I could borrow? I'll pay you back. I just won't get paid until Saturday, and the car is out of gas."

Shame crashed through me. I squeezed my eyes shut, attempting to breathe in the room that was now thick with her lie.

I had to get control back. "Mam-"

"I can give you the money. But you don't have to repay me. Just leave when you get it," rasped Mason in irritation.

"What are you doing," I hissed.

He didn't answer me. He kept his gaze steady on my mother.

"Can't argue with that," she said lightly.

"Then I'll be right back." He turned to me, keeping his voice low as he requested, "Come with me while I get it."

I shook my head. I had to take control of this situation. If I could talk to my mother without Mason around, I could try and reason with her. The thought of her taking his money made me sick.

"You're so stubborn," he sighed. "At least, wait in the hallway. Please."

Seeing no reason to deny that, I nodded and followed him out into the hall. With one last look at me over his shoulder, he disappeared behind his door. It didn't take long after Mason left for my mother to join me.

"He's such a handsome man now," my mother remarked from our entryway as she impatiently danced on the balls of her feet. Staying still in any capacity seemed to be too hard for her. "Do him yet?"

Ignoring her disgusting comment, I moved to stand in front of her. "Don't. Don't do this, I'm begging you. Don't take money from him."

Her once exuberant brown eyes stared at me without any vibrancy. They didn't stay on me long before she snapped them away. 

"He offered," she muttered distractedly. "And you know I need it."

"You need help." I tried moving into her line of sight, wanting her to look at me, to understand the pain I'm in right now because of her. "Let's get help. I know a doctor who might know a good place where we can get you healthy."

A deafening hush followed my words. She wouldn't even look at me. And the longer I stood there, the more I understood how hopeless this all was.

"If you can't see you need help, then I have to do this the hard way," I snapped, feeling my own anger rise. "I'm going to make sure he doesn't give you any money. And if I have to, I'll drag you to-"

I heard the sound of her palm connecting to my cheek long before I felt the sting. The taste of copper flooded my mouth followed by a sharp ache. I spit some blood out onto the carpet and kept my gaze averted, unable to look at her in fear that she could see how much resentment I felt right then.

"I... I don't know how much longer I can do this mom," I choked out, attempting to keep my emotions under control. I backed against the wall and then looked at her. "I'm done."

The panic on her face was palpable. The gap between us was made smaller as she took a couple of strides towards me and then cupped my face. The hand that had hit me was now caressing me tenderly like she had forgotten what she had done.

But I didn't.

In agitation, she began shaking her head. "Baby, baby, I'm sorry. I'll get better. I promise. Please. I'm so, so sorry. It'll be just this once more, okay? I'll do whatever you want afterward. I'll even go to rehab. Whatever. But just this once, okay? Don't leave me."

Stiffly, I nodded, feeling my gut tighten into a knot as she kept reciting the same lie over and over again. Tears stung my eyes, blinding me behind a haze that I refused to let fall. I don't cry. I'm stronger than that.

"That's my good girl," she fussed. "I promise I'll do better. I-I can't live without you, you understand? If you ever left me, I'd kill myself. So, please, don't leave me."

A stabbing sensation erupted all over my body as those words carved themselves into my skin like an unwanted tattoo.

"I could only find $24 and some change. Take it and go," growled Mason, interrupting the two of us.

I shot him a quick glance to see a clear sandwich bag of loose change dangling in his outstretched hand. Ashamed at the thought of what he had to do to find all those coins, I looked away, letting my hair fall into a curtain around my face.

Without saying anything, the money was exchanged and she was gone as fast as she came, eager for her next fix. She hardly even glimpsed at me before leaving. The mood left behind was heavy. Mason was quiet, seemingly giving me space to collect my thoughts.

I stayed rooted to my spot. Something heavy embedded itself in the pit of my stomach, churning it until I felt bile burn the back of my throat. I prayed I wasn't about to throw up, but the blood in my mouth wasn't helping.

Eventually, Mason approached me, resting a hand on my shoulder, which tensed at first from the sudden contact, but I soon relaxed. If he noticed my brief discomfort, he didn't comment about it. "After we clean up, wanna watch The Sword in the Stone? Or maybe, Aladdin?"

"I'll pay you back," I replied meekly, feeling worn out.

He sighed then clasped my chin and tilted my head, giving him a good look at my stinging cheek. His own expression was hard as he struggled to stay strong for me. Knowing that my life was causing him to grow up too fast made the pain in my stomach worse.

That day six years ago when a little eight-year-old boy approached that neglected girl on the swings, she should have ignored him.

"C'mon, you look like a cannibal with all that blood on your teeth," he teased.

Unable to find it in me to tell jokes, I stayed quiet. Sensing my mood, Mason tugged me into my apartment and closed the door behind him. He appeared to be forcing himself to stay chipper for my sake.

On my way to the kitchen to rinse my mouth out, I gathered up what I could before happening upon the cup my mother threw earlier. I picked it up and frowned. The hard plastic that I had felt was indestructible against my mother was now cracked.

Just like me.