Lena nodded slowly. “Fair. But I confiscate this stuff because I found my own mother dead of an overdose when I was sixteen. It was a different drug, but the same stupid, shiny little object in her hand.” She held up the vape. “So when I see you with this, I don’t see a rebellious teen. I see a body on a bathroom floor.”
They sat on the top step of the staircase, the candle between them. Rain lashed the windows.
“Good. Because I’m not hiding it anymore.” Bianka stepped forward, pressing the pen into Lena’s palm. “There. Confiscated. Happy?” PervMom.21.05.16.Bianka.Blue.Confiscate.This.XX...
“I’m not playing your game tonight, Bianka.”
Confiscate This
When she came back, she didn’t say sorry. She just sat down an inch closer to Lena on the step, their shoulders almost touching.
It was their ritual. Every Friday night for the past three months, Lena would find something—a joint in a makeup bag, a flask in a purse, now this. And every time, Bianka would dare her. But tonight, the air was different. A storm had rolled in, cutting the power ten minutes ago. The only light came from a single candle flickering on the hallway table, throwing dancing, monstrous shadows across Lena’s face. Lena nodded slowly
Her stepmother, Lena, stood in the hallway’s shadows, arms folded tighter than a sealed evidence bag. She’d been waiting.