By Alicia Rahema Mooltrey | Photo by Jessica Rodriguez
My grandmother stood staring blankly at us, “She does drugs, you know she does drugs right?” My sister and I looked at each other and laughed, “Drugs Nana, really? She drinks yeah, marijuana maybe, but not real drugs, come on. ” We shrugged it off, went about our way and forgot about it - until I found it. A pipe. I held it. Examined it. Tried to see if I had mistaken it for something else, but I wasn’t mistaken. My heart fell into my stomach while my grandmother’s words echoed through my head.