The second I walk through the door I know where she’s been. I take a second to peel off my boots before pushing past the stench of vomit wafting through the living room, I move toward her motionless body the needle is still hanging from her arm. The baby cries from upstairs, I wonder how long she’s been at it. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to clean up her mess but I was hoping it might be the last. I grab a towel just in case, but the belt slipped off her arm as I removed the needle, only clear liquid oozes from the infected sores she insists on reopening with this thing. I poured a bottle for the baby and a glass of water for the 'SugarSmack' princess and walk up the stairs, I promise myself nothing will come between us. If I called the police we would be taken away and I know Justice would be home in an hour to take care of her.
I test the bottle and lift Amy into my arms.
“Awe, baby-girl, is mommy ignoring us again.” I take off my toque and settle into the 70’s wool chair by the window, the legs have been lost for years but it’s perfect for lounging and helps me forget the shit downstairs. My hair falls down across Amy’s face and I feel the knot in my own stomach growing and I know deep down we will be OK.
Her eyes close, I kiss her tiny forehead.