Chapter 7: The Eviction Notice
When a sinking ship takes on water, the rats inevitably turn on each other.
On Monday morning, exactly one week after I walked out, a bright orange piece of paper was taped to the front door.
14-DAY NOTICE TO QUIT. EVICTION PROCEEDINGS INITIATED.
Mia ripped the paper off the door and threw it at my mother, who was sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at her empty coffee mug.
"Fourteen days!" Mia sobbed, completely losing her mind. "We are going to be homeless in two weeks! Do you have the money, Mom?! Do you have anything saved?!"
"Don't speak to me like that!" Mom snapped defensively. "I spent all my money raising you two!"
"No, Lauren spent her money raising us!" Mia fired back, her lip gloss and carefully curated aesthetic completely ruined by her panic. "Lauren paid for everything! And you kicked her out! You threw coffee at a billionaire, you idiot!"
"You laughed!" Mom shrieked, slamming her hands on the table and standing up. "Don't you dare act innocent, Mia! You recorded her on your phone and mocked her! You told her to go sleep in her car!"
"Because you told me she was a burden!" Mia cried, pulling her hair in frustration. "You're the mother! You were supposed to know what you were doing! Fix this! Call her and fix this!"
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"I don't know how to reach her!" Mom yelled back, tears of absolute despair streaming down her face.
The toxic bond they shared had entirely evaporated. Without me there to absorb their anger and subsidize their delusions, they were forced to look at each other. And all they saw were two parasites who had officially run out of blood to drain.
