I wiped away the messy tears from my face, looked at the bag of fizz, and then walked out of the room. As I did, I heard my mother start rifling through the food cabinet in the kitchen.

I slammed the door to my mother's bedroom closed. It made a loud banging sound as I stomped into the kitchen.

“Mom,” I said trying to calm down as I strode into the room.

I wasn't very successful.

“Miria… you’re back early,” said my mother, as she nervously swallowed a slice of bread. When she looked at me, her eyes were slightly downcast, and she had a hard time meeting my eyes. She looked… guilty?

“What is this?” I asked, holding up the bag of fizz.

My mother froze as she looked at the bag of fizz in my hand.

Then, her eyes widened, and then narrowed.

“You went into my room without permission?” she said.

“You’re taking Fizz again!” I felt my eyes grow hot, and realized that I was crying again. “You almost died. I spent years healing you. Why? What is it about this damn drug that makes you want it so much? I went through your room because I realized you were lying about the rent.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to look through my room without my permission! My space is private!” My mother didn’t even sound like an adult - she sounded almost like a teenage daughter pissed off that her mother had searched her room.

Somehow, that made it worse. It drove home how much I needed to be the adult of the situation - and how much my mother was unwilling to try to get better.

“You started taking drugs again.” I said. My voice was softer and calmer now… but there was an edge to it that hadn’t been there before. Because I was starting to realize that Sallia was right. In some respects, at least.

“I’m… I’m not taking them. They’re… for other purposes,” said my mother. “There’s a research foundation that I’ve discovered that researches Fizz abuse. I’m just… getting samples for them. They're helping me. It's a type of therapy.”

For a very, very brief moment, I felt something like hope. It sounded ludicrous, but I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that my mother hadn’t restarted her drug habit. With a faint sense of hope, I carefully looked at her face. With my Grade 12 perception, it wouldn't be hard to spot anything unusual in her expressions. I could also pick up the telltale streaks of blue discoloration that all fizz users got after enough drug abuse.

If I couldn’t find any, I would look into this so-called research center. While it sounded far-fetched, I wanted to believe my mother.

But after two seconds of searching, my hope died.

The blue discoloration was very, very faint… but I could see a little bit of it near the corner of her eyes. It was subtle, but it was there. It had disappeared during my years of healing treatments, but it was back now.

There was only one explanation.

There wasn’t a mistake. My mother had reverted to Fizz usage again.

I hiccoughed as I realized that I was crying again.

“You’re lying to me too,” I said. “There are blue marks at the corners of your eyes. Every fizz user develops them. You’re taking drugs again, and you’re lying to my face about them. Don’t you care at all?”

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I was incoherent. My words were messy and tangled up. I couldn’t understand. Why was it like this? Why had she started her habit again right when things were getting better?

“I…” my mother’s face contorted as she looked at me, and I couldn’t tell what she was feeling at all. My vision was too blurry. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Being angry wouldn’t fix anything.

“I just felt so empty,” she finally said. “I don’t feel happy anymore. I feel bad… for what I did. I left you alone for so long. I felt guilty about that. But it wasn't enough. I felt guilty for what I did, but... I don't feel happy when I spend time with you, or with anyone. I just… I don’t know,” said my mother. “I felt so empty inside, and I felt bad, and I never felt anything else. So I started craving something that would make me feel better. And so I thought that I would just take a little dose…”

I took another deep breath, and tried to think calmly about my mother’s words.

She said that she couldn’t feel happy anymore? Maybe it was some sort of side effect of her previous fizz abuse. Drug use could warp the brain in weird ways. It might even be because of the fizz crystals that I hadn’t managed to extract. My knowledge of how exactly people felt things like 'happiness' wasn't perfect. After all, this world's medical knowledge still had some major holes in it. But I knew that certain chemical reactions related to the brain made people feel 'happy.' Maybe those were messed up because of the Fizz crystals lodged in her brain.

Still, I didn’t find myself calming down completely. Regardless of why she had done it, my mother had started taking fizz again. Those reminded me of the worst days in this life. Days where I sat inside of our moldy apartment, watching my mother twitch and shiver as she lost herself in her drugs. Days spent wondering why my healing magic wasn’t fixing everything, the way it usually did.

“Just… stop it,” I said. “Please. Stop taking fizz. If you keep taking it, you’ll die. I barely managed to heal you even with my ability. It was so hard, and I felt so happy when you were back with us. How could you start again after knowing what it almost cost you? Please, just… quit it.”

“It’s my decision!” said my mother. “You had no right to look through my room in the first place! I just… don’t want to feel so empty anymore.”

“I want you to be healthy. I don’t want to find out you’re dead in a ditch somewhere in a few years because I wasn’t paying attention. You lied to me about the rent, and then you lied to my face when I asked you if you were taking Fizz again. If you keep taking fizz, it'll just get worse. I want to move on. But we can't move on like this.”

My mother’s expression finally changed, and she looked at me again. I could see haggard lines at the corners of my mother’s eyes. Her gaze drifted downwards, and her eyebrows sagged.

For a moment, I hoped that she would listen.

And then the moment passed. Her gaze pulled itself back upwards, and she glared at me.

“So what if I took more fizz? It’s my choice! I can’t stand the empty feeling! I need to make it go away.” In her last sentence, some of the heat in her words died away. It sounded hollow. Almost like she was trying to convince herself instead of me.

“But you can’t be healthy if you keep taking Fizz,” I said. “I want you to be healthy. I can manage our financial situation on my own, so I don’t need you to work, or do anything risky. The only thing I want is for you to be there for me. You spent years in a drug-induced coma. You only woke up once every few months, and only for a few hours. I was alone for almost all of that time. I wanted us to make up for lost time and become real family. But you can’t do that if you’re high all the time.”

“Miria. All the other adults in your life think that I’m some unsalvageable wreck. When we went to the graduation party for your school, they looked at me like I was dirt. Old Mo is practically your real parent anyway, isn’t he? You weren't alone. Just leave me alone!”

“That’s not…”

My mother snarled, almost like a feral animal, before she quieted down. She transitioned between rage and guilt in seconds, before she simply stared at me. Then, she shook her head. “I just… need it.”

I felt something inside of my break.

Even though my mother seemed to feel guilty, even though she seemed to be aware, on some level, that her actions were wrong… she wasn’t going to stop.

Not now, at least.

“Mom… I love you,” I said, feeling hot tears start to slide down my face again.

I didn’t think Sallia was completely correct, but in a sense, she was right.

“I love you… but I can’t sit here and watch you destroy yourself. It hurts me when I see you falling into your drug episodes. I can’t stand the thought of you dying while I desperately try to keep you alive. I can’t keep helping you pay for your drugs, either. I’m trying so hard to fight a battle to keep you healthy… but I can’t win that battle if you’re fighting against me. If you want to keep taking fizz… fine. I… contact me if you want to change,” I said. “I can’t fight for you if you won’t fight for yourself. I love you. Goodbye.”

With those words, I turned around and left the apartment. I needed to be alone for a while.