Before we begin, please accept my apology for taking nearly two months to update this story. I could say the reasons for why this is, but in all honesty they feel like excuses to me. And two, this is more or less the story, the next update after this will be polishing up the grammar and structure. I might change chapter three around a bit though because it feels out of place at times, or perhaps that me being picky. Anyhow, hope y'all enjoy the story.
Chapter One
"Where you going Kid," Liz asked as Kid started to walk towards the doors of the DWMA. Without turning around, he answered back, "There is something important that I need to ask my father. You two head back to the Gallows and get some rest." As soon as the last of the words left his mouth he had disappeared into the Academy. Liz let out a long, exasperated yawn as she turned towards her younger sister, who was currently sitting on the ground and doodling on a notepad.
[Where the heck did she get from? Did she have that thing the entire time we were on that assignment,] Liz thought to herself as she watched her little sister, who was currently off in her own little world.
"Prepare for anything I guess," she said quietly to herself as she crouched down by her younger sibling to get a good look at what she was drawing. From what she could tell, it was a giraffe. Liz shook her head and smiled before placing her hand on Patty's shoulder.
"Alright space cadet, lets head on home. It's been way too long of a day and I need a break from all the crazy that's been going on," Liz said gently to her little sister. Having been broken out of her trance, Patty turned towards her sister and nodded her head in agreement. She jumped up to her feet and took off towards the Manor at a full sprint. However, she stopped after about sixty meters and turned around to shout at Liz.
"Come on Sis, I'll race you back home!" She yelled before taking off again at a full clip. Liz just looked on at the scene, her mouth hanging open in amazement.
"Where the hell does she get all her energy from? I swear that girl ain't human," She said to herself as she started to make her way to the manor at a much more reasonable pace.
Later that night
"How did I let it get this bad," Liz asked no one in particular. She was in the process of cleaning her room, which was long overdue for some tidying up. When the sisters moved to the manor with Kid and his father they were given their own rooms. This was something of a Godsend for Elizabeth, because it finally gave her a place that allowed her some peace and quiet from the insanity that seem to dominate her life, due in no small part to her little sister. It was also the first time in her life where she didn't have share a room or a bed with her sister, to which she was grateful for. Not because she disliked her sister (far from it really) but because it gave her a little place in the world that she could retreat to when she wanted to be alone. Also, it's a great indicator of who is the tidier sibling, and it certainly isn't Liz. Her organization is the based around the time tested pile system, which is where everything; from books to clothes, is arranged into separate piles around the room. Up until recently, it was a highly effective system for Liz because she could just roll out of bed and grab everything that she needed for the day as she pasted by each pile, which meant she would get to the bathroom before the other two were even up. Getting there before the Kid or Patty is the main objective in the morning, because either of them could tie up the bathroom for hours. With Kid it's a crapshoot. He could be in there for only a few minutes or all morning, depending on how long it took to ensure everything was in "prefect order" and symmetrical. And if Patty goes first, may as well say good bye to a hot shower. She uses up every last bit of hot water, even if she is only in there for five lousy minutes (no one, including Lord Death, could explain how she accomplished that feat.) Also she is a bit lazy when it comes to housework, so the pile system was a perfect fit. It only recently became a problem when Kid came into her room one day to borrow something and promptly had one of his spaz-seizure-panic attacks at the sight of the place. So she put cleaning her room at the top of her to-do-list. Anyhow, after tying off the third bag of clothes she was finally able to see the majority of her floor, to which she decided to celebrate by taking a break. Besides, she was curious about the little book that she found earlier, which was lying on the bed where Liz had tossed it. It was an old, battered little tome, light brown in color with a bent spine and cracks all over the cover. She walked over to her bed and sat on the edge, reaching to her right to grab the book. When she picked it up, the first thing she notice that it felt as worn as it looked, as if it would fall apart if she so much as glare at it.
"This old thing feels familiar," She said to herself as she carefully flipped it open to the first page, where she was greeted by a picture of two small girls, one slightly larger than the other, playing on a swing set, looking like they were having the time of their young lives. They were around the ages of six and three, both with light blonde hair and deep ocean blue eyes.
[I remember this,] Liz thought to herself as a smile started to form on her face, [this is when me and Patty were still growing up in the projects.] She flipped the page over to find another picture of the two young girls, who were sitting on a worn-out carpeted floor and coloring away in coloring books, or that what it appeared to be at least. Below that picture was another, this time of the two young sisters standing in front of a wall that was half white and half light blue, holding paint brushes and smiling brightly, their clothes and faces coated with light blue paint. On the page besides that was a picture of a young woman in her early twenties, covered in about as much paint as the two sisters and smiling just as brightly. She was a tall and skinny woman, with long, fair brown hair and icy blue eyes that looked as if they could pierce the soul. Other than that, she looked like an older version of Liz, or more appropriately, Liz looked like a younger version of the woman in the picture. Liz glared at the woman, almost as if she was trying to stare her down. She promptly closed the old photo album shut and tossed it behind her, the book hitting the bed with a soft thud.
[Great, that's the last thing I needed today: being reminded that I'm related to that whore,] Liz thought bitterly to herself as she resumed cleaning her room. Even though Liz wasn't the kindest or most patient person around (that title would most likely go to her friend Tsubaki) she still considered herself to be fairly even tempered (it's practically a prerequisite for dealing with her sister and Kid.) But, if there was one topic that could send her into a near homicidal fury, it was the mere mention of her mother. After all, she abandoned her and Patty for her addiction, and was the primary reason why the sisters turned into the infamous "Demons of Brooklyn." Shaking her head, she pushed the thought of her mother as far away into the depths of her mind as she could, figuring there was little sense in dwelling what she couldn't change. It was of little use though, because her mind would drift back to thoughts of the past and the picture in the photo book that captured those brief moments from long ago. Only after a few minutes, Liz halted the cleaning process again and walked over to the head of the bed to grab the battered little book to thumb through it once more. With each turn of a page, she felt both a wave of nostalgia and a growing pit of rage in her stomach. There were pictures of the sisters and their mother in various situation; from Liz's first day of school (she looked so scared) to the day Patty was brought home from the hospital and all points in between. She continued to flip through the pages until she reached a picture that had all three of them in it. There was nothing notably remarkable about the photo; the woman and her daughters were gathered around a small table, bundled in winter wear. The only noticeable different compared to all the other pictures, besides the girls progressively aging, is the apparent physical health of the young woman. Her face was sunken in and her skin was a sickly shade of ash grey. Liz let out a small sigh.
"I still can't believe how fast she changed. From the most beautiful call girl in all of Brooklyn to a ghost in a few short years. How did you let it get that bad?" She asked the picture as she felt a hot, stinging sensation building up behind her eyes. She hated her mother for many things; for deciding an addiction was more important to her than her daughters, for lying to them, but most of all for abandoning them. She felt the white hot anger and disgust building in her stomach towards the vile woman in the picture, but at the same time a small sense of pity. Because there was a time when Liz truly loved her, back when she was actually a good mother, or as good as one could be in a situation like theirs. Given their mother's occupation they were always in a perpetual state of poverty. But they made do with what they had, and for the most part they were a happy little family. A bit dysfunctional perhaps, but happy none the less. Then one day, she up and walked away from it all. Liz had no idea where she went or why she did it, only remembering the last thing her mother said to her, which was to take care of her little sister. The sensation behind her eyes started to intensify, and before long hot tears ran silently down her face. The last seven years of her life, the constant hell of struggling to survive while raising her little sister, and almost dying in a shootout with a local crime lord's gang, were all because of this woman walking out on the both of them.
"I need to get a shower," she said as she snapped the album shut, tossing it towards the back of the room. She walked towards her dresser and pulled out a fresh set of cloths. She moved towards the door, where her duster was hanging. She snatched it of the hanger, and proceeded to leave her room for the bathroom. She needed to clear her head, and to get away from everyone for a while.