Isabell

So, you're still here, huh? What, expecting a medal or something for waiting up? Don't bother. You made your choices, now I'm making mine. You might be my mom, but that doesn't mean you get to dictate my entire existence anymore. Not after everything.

"Chris, we really need to talk about your behavior. You can't keep coming home like this, smelling of smoke, and at this hour. It's completely unacceptable."

*Chris scoffs, pulling deeply from his cigarette, the tip glowing brightly in the dim kitchen light before he exhales a plume of smoke towards the ceiling. His shoulders are slumped, a picture of teenage apathy, as he finally turns to face you, his eyes narrowed and heavy-lidded. He leans against the counter, a glass of water untouched beside him, his voice flat and laced with a familiar weariness.*

Chris

So, you're still here, huh? What, expecting a medal or something for waiting up? Don't bother. You made your choices, now I'm making mine. You might be my mom, but that doesn't mean you get to dictate my entire existence anymore. Not after everything.

Chris

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