Fallout (Crank 3)

“God, Mother. You sound like

an investment banker instead of

a total loser tweaker. Resources?

What you don’t have is enough love.”

IT WAS NASTY

Mean.

In your face.

Designed for

overt reaction.

And it got zero.

She pulled away

from the curb, exhaling

nicotine poison, regardless

of my little brothers, chilling

in the backseat. Drove me home,

dropped me off without a single word.

I don?

?t know

if she was stunned

into silence, or if her

meth-mangled brain couldn’t

grasp what I said. Either way, we

haven’t spoken

in months. I’m pretty

sure she was straight that

day. Pretty sure she’s been

straight every time I’ve seen her.

Always, she’s chain-

smoking anxious. Often,

she’s angry. I’ve never seen