Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
As she looks out over the balcony of her mom's new mansion (not hers. Nowhere with her mom there can ever be home.) a solitary tear drips down her cheek. And she pulls out the flask she brought outside with her.
She knows it's the wrong thing to do, knows after Tijuana that she shouldn't drink, but it's a comfort thing. And anyway, who is she to mess with tradition?
She hates her mother for being okay with her drinking in the first place. But there's nothing she can do now. Drinking away the pain is all she has left.