I hefted the half-empty beer bottle in my hand. It had just enough mass to remind me that I'd gulped down half of the bitter beverage at seven in the morning. I wasn't much of a morning drinker but the situation was extremely dire.

"Mateo, I'm coming in!" An all too familiar voice shouted from outside my closed door. I had forgotten to lock it.

"No Mom, I'm naked!" I shouted back, thinking fast as I scrambled to hide the packets of unprescribed pills scattered across my fluorescent green bed. I briefly considered stuffing them in my drawer but decided they were less likely to be discovered inside my pants.

"You have five seconds," my mother's impatient voice cautioned before starting to count down from five. By the count of one, I rolled the beer bottle under my bed and scrambled under the bedsheets just as my door swung open and my mother stalked inside.

My mother was the Evelyn Torres and if you didn't recognize the name, you probably lived two houses down from the pineapple under the sea. She was the new bombshell actor that had taken Hollywood by storm in the last three years. Some had even called her the new Scarlett Johannson.

As great as she was behind the camera and at keeping up a great social image, handling her motherly duties - or being at home at all was a bit new, the type of new I could gladly do without. 

Although I had to admit it was slightly my fault—or completely my fault, depending on who you asked.

I'd gotten a bit too cross-faded about a week ago—the type of faded that makes you believe you can fly and if you squint hard enough you really might start floating into the clouds. I hadn't been able to recite what happened when I woke up in an Uber with just my boxer briefs and a splitting headache, but TMZ had been all too eager to jog my memory with a video of my handsome self running down the highway. Frankly, I'd been most impressed by my show of speed and thought everyone should be too. If being an addict didn't work out maybe being an athlete was a route I could explore.

However, social media decided to focus on the small detail of me weaving in and out of live traffic, putting not only my own life at risk, but innocent drivers as well, which was a slight exaggeration on their part. I was about a buck sixty, if a car hit me I'm pretty sure I'd be the one saying 'ow'.

"It's time to get ready," my mother said, her eyes scanning my room suspiciously. She made her way over to my drawer and started rummaging through it. "I won't be pleased if I find something unpleasant in here."

I shrugged. "I can't promise there aren't any used rubbers in there." Ignoring my mother's venomous glare I tried my best to distract her from searching the room. "Why do I have to get ready so early? I thought orientation was at midday."

"The camp is four hours away, Mateo. We're already going to be late but I don't want you to miss it completely. There might be important information that you need to hear." She didn't stop searching the drawers as she spoke to my dismay.

I frowned. "Is this a bad time to mention I'm allergic to the woods?"

"Is this a bad time to point out you're only supposed to take medicine prescribed by a doctor?" She shot back.

"So you're saying all I need is a doctor's letter and I don't have to go to this camp?"

 The camp in question was some new revolutionary rehabilitation center made for teens. If that didn't sound crazy enough, the location was smack in the middle of the woods. Since my 'addiction' had become a PR nightmare for her she'd taken an interest in the creation. Trust my mother to not pick a normal run-of-the-mill center and send me to something that sounded straight out of a horror movie. Though honestly, I would've just bribed a normal rehabilitation center.

Here's hoping the wood people still use cash.

"Aha," my mother called as she pulled the beer bottle out from under my bed. "Really? At seven in the morning?"

"Don't blame me; I'm not usually forced to wake up this early on Tuesdays. Normally tea time is in two hours."

My mother gave a long-suffering sigh and then shot me an icy glare. "I expect you to be ready in ten minutes," she said before stomping out of the room and slamming the door behind her.

She meant business. I'd better listen before she shipped me to Alaska instead. I dug under my cabinet and pulled out a full beer bottle.

After a drink, of course.

Fifteen minutes later my mother barged back into the room and gave a satisfied nod when she saw my suitcase finished packed and the room semi-clean. If I was being honest, I'd only cleaned up a little in hopes of finding more pills to add to my stash since I hadn't had a refill. The packet in my pants only had three valium pills. Sadly, it wasn't enough to overdose out of the situation.

"So, you're ready?" My mother asked, her voice much softer than before. She now wore a cap, a modest T-shirt and jeans. Basically what someone trying to fit in and be less recognizable would wear, which ironically, probably made her even more recognizable. 

I squinted. "Mentally or physically?"

"I'm sure it won't be as bad as you think," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "All I see you hanging out with are junkies that I doubt you even consider friends. Maybe this can be a good change of pace and you can make some real ones."

"Not sure you realize, Mom, but I'm going to be around even more junkies—who are lacking their daily fix, may I add, every single day now."

"I prefer you refer to them as healing individuals, much like yourself."

"Except I don't need fixing, I'm perfectly fine."

My mom raised an eyebrow. She didn't need to point out the TMZ video, I could almost hear the unsaid words through her expression.

I sighed. "Point taken."

"Are you ready ma'am?" A voice sounded from my bedroom door. There stood my mother's driver who also doubled as her personal bodyguard. He was a mammoth of a man, standing at about six foot six and I happened to quite like him. He appreciated my sarcastic humor after all.

"Just about," My mother responded. "You can come and take his suitcase and start loading it into the car."

He obeyed, easily hauling the big suitcase up and nodding in my direction with a muttered good morning before exiting the room.

"I don't want you to view this as punishment, Mateo." My mother stated, her eyes softening. "This is for your well-being. I know you think this is just for my benefit but you really could've ended up dead that day."

"But I didn't," I replied.

"With the path you're on there's always gonna be a next time and a time after that until you're not able to say that phrase again." She hesitated as if dreading what she was about to say but forcing herself to anyway. "Or say anything at all."

I looked away. Deep down I knew she wasn't wrong, of course. It just stung more coming from her, an always absent mother. I wondered if even now she was playing a role in a film, her words and demeanor dictated by the script of a conventionally good mother. At the end of the day though, it was all an act.

Everyone are actors.

"Whatever you say."

I took one last look at my room for what might be the last in a long time. It was spacious, about four times that of a typical dorm room but what I currently looked at fondly was my personality that shone through. A JuiceWRLD poster here, a Stephen Curry poster there, a PS5, and some empty beer bottles under my bed. This had been my safe haven for 17 years, my protection from the outside world when it got too loud. Now, I would have to face the noise daily.

Can I get a hooray?

Before I got into the limo I also looked at the Beverly Hills mansion we called home with a rare appreciation. I never had to want for anything that could be solved with a monetary transaction. To most that meant I was beyond privileged. And perhaps they weren't wrong. But sometimes I wished for an available mother, real friends, a pet...

...and my father.

Pretty sad, huh? I don't even like animals and I'd wished for a pet. Must be all the drug mule documentaries I'd watched.

I sighed, realizing there were no more options to stall, and gingerly stepped into the back of the limousine. 

Well, here goes a royal waste of unimportant time.

≫ ──────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──────── ≪

I felt someone shaking me violently out of my sleep. I groggily slapped away the hand. "Not yet Matt, just a few more minutes, please. It can't be opening time yet," I whined.

"What?"

My mother's voice knocked some of the drowsiness away and I cracked an eye open slowly. This wasn't the bar downtown after all. It all came rushing back to me. I was in the back of our limo on my way to the hell they called a rehabilitation center or well, in this case, a camp.

My mother was saying something judging by her lips moving but I couldn't seem to hear it. It was as if her voice was muffled by something. I had to squint to make out her words which was a weird feeling. "ARE YOU HIGH?" she asked in an unreasonably loud voice that felt like a shockwave attacking my ears.

I tried to open my mouth and communicate a convincing no, but the three pills I took before getting in the limousine threatened to speak for me. I settled for a shake of the head.

It probably wasn't convincing enough, given the look of disappointment that submerged her soft features. She shook her head slowly. "You're beyond help."

I sat up with some effort. "In that case, we might as well turn this baby arou-"

"We're here," Our driver announced from the front before making a sharp right turn.

"What?" I exclaimed in annoyance. "I thought it was four hours away!"

My mother scoffed. "Do you think you just fell asleep?" 

I checked my watch and sure enough, it was bordering on noon. I'd slept for four hours and still felt tired. Or maybe that sedated drowsy feeling was the healthy dose of valium kicking in. Between the slight blur my vision had discovered it was hard to tell.

"Who takes drugs before going to a rehabilitation program?" My mother asked, disbelief evident in her tone.

"Calm down. I decided I might as well look the part. Besides, I'm sure at your job you have to do scenes you don't want to, but you don't have much of a choice if you want that oversized paycheck. This is one of those times for me, and the pills will stop me - at least initially, from looking for the nearest bear and instead going through with the scene."

My mother regarded me with such scrutiny I wondered if the words had come out differently from what I thought. "And in this scenario, is this oversized paycheck your sobriety?"

"I was more thinking it's getting you off my back."

Silence became a forefront as the limo made its way across an extremely rowdy gravel path that led further into the woodlands than any sane person would venture.

How stupid it was for someone trying not to be noticed to take a limo in such a remote location, I thought idly. The wonders of people with money.

"I'm trying here, Mateo. I really am. But you're not allowing me to be the mother you want me to be."

"Wanted you to be," I corrected. "After your decision to ship me into the woods, I'm rethinking the whole motherhood thing."

"It's for your own good," she responded with forced patience. "You may not see that now - especially with drugs in your system, but maybe at the end you'll be thanking me for the intervention."

"Or you'll be thanking me for not bringing you any more bad press," I countered.

"It's not about that. I care about you...you know that right?"

The vehicle finally came to a stop. I could partly make out a small parking lot of sorts which was moderately filled with cars of all flavors. "What I do know is you have an interview in Atlanta tomorrow. Can't miss that so we'd better hurry and lock me up where I can't be a pest and you can smooth out the situation with a pearl smile."

My mother let out an exasperated groan and threw her hands up in the universal 'I give up gesture' while I hurried out of the limo. If there were any predators on the prowl I was eager to make sure I was the first thing they'd see. 

Suicidal? Not necessarily. But a hospital trip sure didn't sound bad about now. 

A sign on the far end of the parking lot read 'The Guidebook to Sobriety' with a large arrow pointing to a forest trail. That certainly didn't look perilous at all.

My mother made her way around the limousine, her face a practiced mask that threatened to break. I wasn't a completely inconsiderate halfwit. My mother had me when she was young and with her focus on surviving the demanding realm of acting school, then working towards her big break and simultaneously building generational wealth, she hadn't exactly had ample time to learn to be a mother. 

"I'll try my best to reach the standards of these wannabe hermits so I'm back terrorizing the LA streets in no time," I offered before she could speak again.

She stared at me for a second before giving a curt nod. "I figure that's the most compliance your ego will allow. I'll take it for now. Effort is all I ask."

"Deal."

"This as far as I can go," my mother said, tipping her baseball cap theatrically. "I figure I shouldn't attract too much attention at the moment." Before I could respond she darted forward and wrapped her arms around me in a foreign embrace. It was quick, and I was too stunned to react. "Be safe," she said before I forcibly regained control of my legs and turned to follow our driver, Ben, as he carried my suitcase.

"You too."

We walked down the twisting path surrounded by dense foliage that could've been hiding at least three things capable of eating us both. Even though we were still a ways off from the end of the clearing a building came into view.  It had to be about five stories, towering up and looking very out of place from our vantage point. All that was missing was dissonant chords to complete the horror movie theme.

"She tries, y'know," Ben said, breaking the defeating silence. 

"Ah, don't tell me you're getting sappy on me too, Ben."

Ben smirked. "I'm just saying, my man."

I scratched my ear idly. "I know she does."

Finally, we conquered the last corner and the large clearing properly materialized. Two large cabins on either side sat next to the building we noticed earlier. This setup looked more like some type of woods party to get smacked at than a rehabilitation center. 

I didn't notice any no smoking signs so here's hoping.

There were barely any people outside so I figured I was just about to fall into the late category.

"You got it from here?" Ben asked, stopping suddenly.

"Sure," I said with a nod, taking the suitcase. "Don't miss me too much now, Ben."

"You kidding? I'm happy as hell to get you out my hair," he said while rubbing his hand on his shining bald head as if he had any.

I chuckled.

I'm gonna miss that guy.

I approached the largest building with my suitcase in tow. The stragglers seemed to be heading in that direction so I followed suit. I cursed my fate with each earthy step closer

"Hey, there!" A woman in uniform greeted me cheerfully as I reached the steps. "Are you ready to begin your journey to sobriety?"

I grimaced.

"Would you take offense if I said hell no?"