Our problem daughter, came back home and was treated like a guest.

She was light and breezy, with no heartache to show. No tears to show.

We thought Bella was happy to be parted from Mr Big I Am.

We thought wrong. Day one of exodus, in the car park after work, he was waiting for her, he wooed her again.

She enjoyed the extra attention leaving him had spurned. After a few days of our hospitality, she decided to return to him.

‘But he was abusive, pulled your hair,’ I said. Husband was unhappy his daughter being treated so.

No, her own fault for spraying irritant in his eyes. That was news to us.

We could not stop her going; we could not hold her back. The black bin bags had not yet been unpacked.

Mr Big I Am bought Bella an expensive gift to thank her for coming back. An expensive gift to plaster the crack.

Back she went to the lonely cold house.

Weekends were their problem, she said, weekdays were just fine: they shared humour, snuggled in front of the television and drank a bottle of wine. Saturday night belonged to him to do with as he pleased. He was a man on the town on the hunt for prey.

Bella copied his desire for fresh blood, and hiked the stakes of jealousy.

One bottle of wine multiplied into three.

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I am the mother of two adult daughters, both much loved and cared for. The eldest thought she could handle social drinking and party drugs, she could not. There is a journey addicts relate to - their journey. As a mother I have healed through the written word. This is my journey.

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