Before I could get a word in, Cecelia was rifling through the dressing room, throwing Mom's stuff around like she'd uncovered a crime. "Your mom's clothes are all here, and you still claim she's gone?"
"Hands off my mom's things!" I lunged to grab the stuff from her.
Alex grabbed me firmly. "Tell me where your mom is, or I'm not letting you go."
Cecelia tore at Mom's clothes, spiteful, "You think you can hide out, live it up while others suffer? Not on my watch!"
"Stop, just stop!"
I watched, heartbroken, as Cecelia trashed what little I had left of Mom. I pleaded with Alex, "Make her stop!"
Alex cold as ice, "Then call your mom out."
Rage mixed with helplessness, I said, "I told you, she's gone. Why would you think it's her in the video?"
Alex claimed, "She was live streaming right there on the street. Cecelia's girls saw it."
Glaring at Cecelia, memories and realizations flashed through my mind, but I was too upset, too constrained, to think straight.
As we talked, Cecelia wrecked all of Mom's belongings, stomping on them and spitting on them.
I snapped like a frantic beast and bit Alex hard, no holding back.