Hello all! I had to take a break from Fanfiction for a while. I am actually sad to say I was ashamed to post some of the stories I had on this beautiful website of ours. I can safely say I am back, hoping to improve my writing. All reviews welcomed, constructive or otherwise. Flames, however, please log in so we can actually discuss my flaws to make me a better writer.

Thank you and enjoy! Oh and I don't like silent readers!

-*Rose*-

The day I lost my mother, it was a day like this: sunny, cheerful and fair. I was sitting with Lissa, my best friend since kindergarten, at a newly opened cafe. We were outside, on the patio. The umbrella was closed. We wanted to breathe in the fresh and sunny air, a rare privilege as it was always snowing here in Montana. We had been laughing about something Eric, Lissa's eight-month baby boy, had done when I got the call stating my mother has gone into cardiac arrest at the hospital.

Lissa had suggested taking me out to get my mind off my mother's surgery, but something was nagging me in the back of my head. We somehow managed to get to the hospital in under an hour with the heavy rush-hour traffic. After I broke through the glass doors, the first thing I saw was white. I always hated hospitals. Here, in this large white room, there were sick people, but they had a sickness that you could see.

Janie Hathaway.

In my state of shock, I found myself being pushed forward by a very small force, but my mind was on my mother. Granted we never had the best relationship, but at the end of the day she was the woman who gave me life. I'd always love her for that, despite the fact I always thought she was heartless for leaving me on the doorstep of total strangers. Over the intercom, a stoic voice was paging a doctor, someone yelling to get AED.

I soon found myself outside a glass window, viewing a petite red-headed woman. My mother. Her skin was tan, like mine. However, it didn't have its usual glow. It was pale, her lips an ice cold blue. A young woman was preforming CPR, another shouting. A man soon came in the room from the other side of the room. He was tall, six-foot-six or six-foot-seven, with shoulder-length brown hair and eyes. He was sliding down the wall as if he . . . I didn't know what to think.

He was the doctor who preformed my mother's surgery, I realized. A flat line brought me back. "No! No! Nooo!" I started yelling and banging on the glass. A nurse's head snapped towards mine. She rushed over to the door and almost slammed it shut, trying to pull me away. "Ma'am. Ma'am . . . Please step away from the door." I barely had a struggle, as she was very thin and frail. Frailer looking than my now-late mother.

I thrashed and thrashed. It took five nurses and two security guards to hold me still. I turned my gaze onto the tall, brown-haired man. "You! You did this." I heard various shots of, "Calm her down!" or "Sedate her!"

"Your license should be revoked!" His crest-fallen, horrid face was the last I saw before everything went dark.

-One Month Later-

My mother's funeral was intimate. Only close friends and family were allowed to attend. Unlike most young people, she had her will written early. She always did like to prepare. The Dragomirs, Lissa's family, gave speeches. My father (I'm sorry an estranged man claiming to be my father) gave a speech about cherishing those you love and how he fell in love with my mother. He approached me after the funeral and handed me an orange folder filled with a note and stacks of c-notes.

It turns out fate wasn't done with watching suffer after the loss of my mother. It just seemed as if my life was turning into a series of unfortunate events, one catastrophe after the other. Lissa's family died in a car crash leaving the funeral. In a way, I was glad Lissa decided to stay and comfort me. I could've been burying someone I viewed as my sister and best friend. She was there for me, now it was my time to be there for her.

In the mist of all my anger and hatred, I found it easier to blame all of this hardship on one man: Dr. Belikov. It was at my best friend's family's death bed I made a vow.

-Almost A Decade Later-

The atmosphere was the exact same as it was that faithful day. I pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. That same hospital I lost my mother. I seemed to repeat my steps until I was at the front desk. I gave a practiced and fake smile. "Rose Hathaway."

The blonde behind the counter smiled. "Right this way." I was led down multiple corridors, past many doors and stopped at an office. Written in gold next to the door was Dr. Belikov.