Downfall | ✔️

Chapter 3.

I decide to check all of the nearby malls and stores that she likes first, restaurants, parks, anything I can think of. The drive is tensely silent and I avoid making eye contact with Mason.

I pull over to the side of the road and take what feels like my hundredth deep breath of the day, slamming my fist against the steering wheel in frustration, beginning to lose any hope I had.

Mason breaks the silence, "Is there anywhere else she would go? You know to eat or... drink?" he asks uncomfortably, I know exactly what he's referring to. Bars. Clubs. Liquor stores. It's not like the thought hadn't crossed my mind—I just hoped it wouldn't come to that, it was a last resort.

I start the engine again, "I know where to look."

I head towards her old drinking spot, a bar not far away from my house. I have vivid memories of her telling me about this place when I was young—she would fawn over it in her drunken states. Many times cab drivers would drop her home basically catatonic after spending the night there.

As we arrive outside the dimly lit building with a broken neon sign; I prepare myself to go inside, trying to stop myself from breaking down.

"Do you want me to come inside with you? There will probably be a lot of drunken assholes in there." Mason mumbles.

"You mean like my mom?" I scoff, "No thanks, I'll be fine."

As I step out of the car I hear him sigh, that was harsh. I know it was. I'm just on edge and in all honesty, embarrassed. I'm embarrassed that I had to drag him here. I don't want him to have to see what I'm scared to find.

"That's not what I meant, Amara. You know that." he sounds defeated and uncomfortable.

"I know, I'm sorry." I apologise sincerely, earning a small, slow nod in return.

As I walk inside I feel my stomach turn at the familiar smell of alcohol and cigarettes, it's nauseating.

I begin to look around, hoping nobody realises I'm underage. I'm also underdressed by far compared to everyone else in here, I just need enough time to look for her. I try to scan the room for my mom as quickly as I can so that I can leave, but it's too dark and crowded, there's no way I'm going to find her here.

I decide to ask at the bar since I'm pretty sure she's well known in here by pretty much everyone, she used to rhyme everyone off by name as she reminisced.

"Excuse me." my voice betrays me, coming out a lot less confident than I intended.

"Do you know if my mom came here? Her name is Dawn, she used to come here a lo-"

"You're the daughter she was always banging on about, eh?" he chants, cutting me off again—he has a thick british accent.

"So, did she come here?" I ask, but I pray that I'm wrong, that she took a D-Tour on the way to Carol's house, and that she's on her way there now. Sober.

The cheerful bartender points to the far corner of the room with a smile on his face, my eyes follow. So much for wishful thinking.

There she is. Leaning against the wall struggling to hold herself up, wasted. Sitting on a stranger's lap. Holding her famous bottle of rum. Instead of marching over there I freeze. My feet cemented to the alcohol soaked floor. The familiar sight makes me feel sick to my stomach and despite my efforts, the tears start to pool in my eyes. I finally manage to bring myself to move and walk over to the table. I don't speak, I just look at her.