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Stopped in Detroit to say hello to Jay and Wally. Got told I looked like hell. Honestly, I still feel like it, but it’s better than running around with third degree burns. That… was much worse, honestly.

But I bragged a little as well. Three months ago, I had no idea how to get to the Speedzone, and I was still making sand when drilling people in the ground. Now, I can go to the Speedzone, though I still need help, and my drill no longer makes sand, because I perfected the spin. Now I’m trying to learn how to suck people who fly out of the air. This should prove interesting.

Thought about going to Centennial, but decided that’ll be one of my last stops. After I’ve finished up with everything else. I’m still not ready to face him… Which is stupid, when I think about it, but the mind is a strange thing.

However, I still don’t know what compelled me to hunt my mother down. I hate her, and if Doom, or anyone else tried to use her against me, I’d probably laugh, and tell them they could have her. But still, I felt like I had to, so I did.

And from the very bottom of my heart on up, I’m glad I did.

It wasn’t hard to find her. I went back to the shit hole I’d called home for twelve years. It still looks the same as it did that night me, Alex, and David walked out, bags stuffed with the few belongings we had, and left. I still don’t regret it, and I know my brothers feel the same.

I went up the walk to the front porch, looking around a little. Still looked the same. Overgrown grass that David had never bothered to mow, because what was a mowed lawn going to do for run down looking house? Absolutely nothing, that’s what. The tree that I fell out of and sprained my wrist is still there, and just as sad looking as ever. The third step on the porch still squeaks, which is how Alex and I always knew when mother had company. We knew to skip it, they didn’t.

My knock on the door was polite, and not to loud. The door looked like it was getting ready to fall down. A few moments later, and there she was, looking just as… Horrible as she did three years ago. That alone made me angry. But her first words to me made me livid.

“What, did David kick you out for being just like me? Send you back so he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore?”

I could have slapped the bitch then, but I decided not to. But I also didn’t get a chance to say anything as she continued on.

“Its obvious, you know, that you’re on something. You look like crap, you’re skinny as hell… But… I bet I could still make a pretty penny off of you…” She reach out to touch my hair, and I knocked her hand away much, much faster than I’d meant to.

While she was still blinking in surprise, I took my chance to speak. “Keep your filthy hands off of me. David didn’t kick me out, and I’m not on drugs. I’m not you, mother. I’m not. I could never be as horrible and selfish as you… Apparently, you didn’t care we were gone. But I bet it was easier, wasn’t it?”

Of course, I never expected her to smack me. Then proceed to go on a tirade about how I was ungrateful, and how she gave away the best years of her life for the three of us. And then she told me she wished she’d never had any of us. It hurt in a way that I’d never realized it could. I knew that she only loved us when it was convenient to her, but… There’s not a lot that can really prepare you for your mother telling you she wished you were never born.

I was already moving to leave, when suddenly, the a loud scream pierced the air. It was high pitched…

I don’t really remember thinking much, but I was through that door faster than my mother could react. The floors were still covered in crap, just like I remembered. The furniture was practically rotting, no curtains on the windows…. I’d forgotten how much the place had stunk, despite David’s best efforts to keep the whole place clean. And it only took a few moments to find the source.

It was a crib in David’s old room. The crib itself was falling apart. And in it stood a toddler, no more than two at most, wailing at the top of her lungs. She looked underfed, with brown, slightly curly hair, and brown eyes. She needed new clothes desperately, but other than that, she was clean.

I had a sister, and I needed to get her out before my mother killed her.

So I picked her up, and held her close, trying to get her to calm down. She did after a moment, and I sighed softly. I turned, and there was my mother.

“You’re not taking her away from me.”

I laughed.

“I’ll call the police.”

“Go for it. I’ll tell them you’re an addict, and an unfit mother. You always have been.”

I think she growled at that, and I pushed past her, holding my sister close to me.

“You can’t take Rosie away from me. I’ll be alone again.”

I thought. ‘You deserve it.’ But I didn’t say that aloud.

“I’m sorry mother, but I can’t let you keep her. I don’t know how David lived until we were born, but with out him, Alex and I wouldn’t be alive. Now it’s my turn to help her live.”

She didn’t respond after that, and I walked out of that house, vowing to myself that it would be the last time. But, I still had one last thing to say.

“By the way mother, if some strange, powerful men come and take you as leverage against me, don’t expect me to come after you. You didn’t care enough to try and find us, so I don’t feel the need to extend that to you.”

Maybe it was cruel, but I don’t care.

I really don’t.


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