CHAPTER THREENewport wedged between her fingers, Ella zipped up the last of her duffle bags and dropped it on the floor beside the other duffle bag. Stepping before the mirror of the dresser, she took one last pull from her square and sat it down in the ashtray. Smoke wafted from it and disappeared in the air. Picking up a beige rubber band, she stared at her reflection and pulled her graying hair back into a ponytail, tangling the rubber band around it. Her eyelids had swollen from crying for so long and her eyes were pink and glassy. Her cheeks were slicked wet, having shed so many tears.
Ella couldn’t believe her son blamed her for his mental illness. She couldn’t see how she was solely responsible for his condition. Sure, she housed the man that harassed and abused him, but there were
