She couldn't help it. She couldn't help feeling like this. After all these years, one would think she woudn't care anymore. That she had gotten over her daddy-issues, because her father was alying cheating bastard that would never change no matter how many times he said he loved them.
She couldn't help remember all those times in the past when she was little, when she wished it was mother, tucked under her father's arm, heading home for the night instead of some giddy-looking bimbo. One would think that she had gotten used to seeing her father walk home with a different big-breasted woman every weekend.
She couldn't help but remember those times when her mother was here. When her father would get home at midnight, smelling like whiskey and women perfume. How her mother would shush her and tell her everything is fine because their midnight screaming match woke her up. Or how he wouldn't come home until the next dday, and spend the rest of the day trying to get himself back on her mother's good graces.
Her father was lying cheating bastard and that would never change. And Maka was glad that her mother had left him. She was a strong woman, she deserved better than that sorry ass excuse of a husband Spirit Albarn was. But that didn't mean her departure was pleasant.
She still remembers how her mother explained to an eight year old crying Maka that no, she couldn't go with her, because she was going to travel the world and Maka needed to stay here to become a great meister and make her mother proud. How she had cried for her mother the next few days, how she had buried herself in her own self-pity the days after that. And how she finally had enough courage to promise herself to be a great meister like her mother when she received her first post card.
New Here. Would really appreciate reviews!
