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When Caitlin reached the front door of her childhood home, she immediately started having second thoughts. She would much rather be in her tiny, shoebox of an apartment, grieving for her lost ones, while eating an entire tub of ice-cream. However, she knew that she had to at least try be here for her mother. No matter how badly she was treated by her, she couldn't afford to lose the one family member she had left.
Slowly, she reached for the doorbell, and pressed on it gently. She could hear the faint ring inside. However, nothing after it. No feet scuffling to the door. No voice yelling that the door was open. Peculiar. Caitlin rang the doorbell again and once again waited for some noise on the other side of the door. Still nothing. She reached for the doorknob, only to see that the door was unlocked.
"Mom?" She called the moment she got inside.
"Did you know the door was open?" She asked, only to receive no answer. Caitlin started to walk up the steps of her childhood home, and was startled to recognise the heavy scent of alcohol in the air.
"Have you been drinking again?" This time, Caitlin heard a groan coming from the master bedroom. She quickly ran into the room to find her mother still in bed at two in the afternoon.
"Mom, get out of bed, more than half the day has gone by." Another groan.
"Did you even go to work? Do you even know what day it is? Get dressed. We're going to the cemetery." After her furious statement, Caitlin's mother finally woke up.
"Don't you tell me what to do. I'll go to the cemetery another day. I was up all night, and I'm exhausted."
"So you have been drinking?" Caitlin asked, trying not to recall the many trips to the hospital she had had to make with her mother the previous year. Alcohol had been a big problem for her. After a trip to the emergency room that had almost cost her her life, Caitlin's mother had been forced into rehab. She had been doing very well there, and had gone four months without any sign of relapsing, but it seemed as though she had fallen back into her old patterns.
"What I do is none of your business," Her mother spat venomously.
"Do you think this is what Dad would have wanted?" Caitlin bit back.
"Oh don't you play that card. Even when dead, your father still manages to be your trump card. You don't even know your father."
"I knew him better than you ever did!"
"No! You didn't. He wasn't even your real father! And I am very glad that I'm not your real mother!"
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