==Be the concerned father.

Your name is Mr. Egbert. You have a son who just turned ten, a love interest with an alcohol addiction and a fascination in harlequins. The main problem right now is your love interest. You haven't seen her in days; she's been missing for so long it's hard to tell if she's even alive anymore. Your portable phone device rings and you answer as you see the caller ID says that it's her. Nearly frightened you lift the cell phone to your ear to hear ragged breathing.

"Mista Egberx, c'mere, Rose an Johjn are playin outside an I'm so alone it hurts,"

You examine your house before answering, just to make sure everything is in order. You know what she wants and you don't think your relationship is ready for that step and besides, you've always believed in marriage before that next step that you do not want to even think about. You would love to accompany Mrs. Lalonde, but unfortunately you'd be leaving your own mother home alone if you did and you'd also be leaving a cake in the oven which to say the least, is not safe. The last time you made this decision this did not end the way you had hoped. With a sigh you answer her.

"Nanna is here though; I can't leave her home alo-OH!" Your oven has started on fire. Quickly you set the portable device on the counter and grab the fire extinguisher, dousing the flames quickly. Your mother is frowning behind you and she smacks you on the head with an oven mitt. You give a sheepish grin and decide that maybe Nanna can handle herself when she's alone, maybe even a bit better than you handle yourself. You get into your clean automobile and abscond to the Lalonde house.

==Be the distraught mother

He's sexing up Mister Egbert, you just know it. That cheap ass son of a bitch has been going on about it for years. Dammit you should have known. You sigh, settling into your bathroom with your gun, cocked into your mouth ready to end it. Your life has been a big long stream of failures, decorated in misery and swirled with booze. Drowning your sorrows sure isn't going to solve anything but maybe your daughter will have a brighter future if you aren't there to screw it up.

You aren't an angry drunk, but you sure are a stupid drunk. You're surprised Rose isn't dead yet, what with all the times you've driven her places high on happy juice. What with all the times you've used a kitchen knife around her when you can barely see colors anymore. Hell, what with every single day you've had her. She doesn't deserve your crap anymore, even if she is only ten years old.

Your make-up is a smeared mess and tears will not stop spilling from your eyes. You want to sob in despair, but only steady tears come in soft streams. You're trying not to scream for help but it's not working very well and you're wailing, but your tears are still soft. You're sure Rose will hear and so you must do this quickly. But no, you don't believe you deserve it to be painless and quick and so you remove the shaft of the gun from your mouth and point it to your left knee cap. One for Mr. Egbert's betrayal. Right knee cap. The second for that bastard Strider.

You are now sitting in a tub of your own blood pain. You know you don't much longer and your only regret is that you will not be able to say I love you to Rose again. But none of that matters now and besides, she deserves love much better than yours. The shaft of the weapon is in your mouth once again. You close your eyes, ready for this. The door opens.

==Be the carefree child

Your name is Rose Lalonde, you are ten years old and you are having the time of your life with your best friend John Egbert. You know you should probably be best friends with Jade, but she likes spending time with your brother more and besides, they've kissed! You and John always pretend gag when you talk about it, and it's always something humorous to you. The two of you have been running around for hours now and you can't stand another minute of it as you've tired so much. The two of you go inside and you get some water and blueberries for your snack. You hand John's share to him and you are startled by something.

There is a trail of shattered glass leading up the stairs; the carpeting is soaked with alcohol and you can hear soft crying when you listen carefully. John gives you a concerned look and you tell him she always does this. He nods and wipes the blueberry stains from his mouth, still looking a bit disturbed.

"Shouldn't you check on her?" He asks. You shake your head and continue eating. It's always like this; however the broken glass does cause the faintest flick of concern in you. John isn't satisfied and before you begin to shout at him that it's fine you hear a gun go off. Once, twice.

"Stay here," You tell him, your eyes wide and your heart thumping at a wild pace in your chest. Carefully you creep up the stairs, watching for glass but not good enough because a small shard slits your big toe and now your bleeding but you keep going because no matter how much she annoys you she's still your mommy and you can't help but-. You're at the bathroom door now, where the trail ends and you can hear her crying. You open the door with a small creak and you sob at the sight.

Your mother's legs are twisted and bloody and she's crying and there's a gun in her mouth. You run over to her, feet stomping in glass and liquor not caring about how bad it hurts.

Her eyes are just as frightened as yours but even more so. You scream to her.

"MOMMY NO!"

But it's too late and a bullet goes through her skull.

Goodbye mommy.

Your brain is fizzling and from deep inside you begin to wail and you hold her, feet bleeding and you allow her blood to soak into you. Loud footsteps tromp upstairs and you can barely hear Mr. Egbert above your screams. He gingerly pulls you away but you won't let go of your mom.

You'll never let go.