I swore I had never seen Xania so excited as she had been on those first two days of our spring break trip. No matter if we were going a hundred miles an hour and getting dead bugs stuck to our motorcycle visors as a result – I'd bought her her own helmet – she was hooting and hollering like she had never even been outside of Sacramento before. She was pointing at everything, saying, "Look, Rosho! Lookatthat! Ain't that awesome?! Huh, huh?!" She was like a hyperactive five-year-old, but I didn't mind. In my own way, I was too. I'd never been on a road trip by myself before…or at least just with a friend. I had been taking in all the strange sights as well, but for the sake of keeping my bike upright, I couldn't kick my legs in excitement like she was.

After two days of driving down the heart of California on Highway 99, we had gone through Modesto, Fresno, and stopped over in Bakersfield for a night's rest before setting out early on the third day, switching onto Highway 58 towards Barstow.

"Y'know, Rosho," Xania pointed out as we were pulled over at a rest stop about twenty miles west of Barstow, "'stead of heading straight for the Canyon, we could make a detour and go to Vegas! It's on the way! I've always wanted to see all the lights and the washed-up pop stars reduced to performing on stage six nights a week to make a livin'! How 'bout it?"

"Somehow…I don't think that's a good idea," I laughed. "The way you're acting, all those bright lights might just make you go crazy! And what's the point of going to Las Vegas if we can't even get into the casinos? That's what it's all about, right?"

"The casinos are overrated! What's the fun of losin' all your money?! I'm not the gamblin' type. I like to perform, to watch performers perform! Sure wish I coulda been around back at the turn of the century…Siegfried and Roy and their tigers. I heard their performances were to die for. And then of course Roy got mauled by Montecore and it was all over, not literally, but…y'know. Roy was never the same physically after that."

"Um…are you making comparisons between me and some old performer?" I inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"…Not like THAT! I just meant…"

"Never mind." I paused. "Um…who's Montecore? I'm guessing one of their tigers?"

"Yeah. Roy said later on that he'd been feelin' sick that night, and claimed that he was startin' to collapse and Montecore grabbed him and dragged him to safety."

"Grabbed him…where?"

"By the neck," she laughed. "I know, sounds fruity to me too, but that's the story he went by. If he were still alive I'd ask him again, but I'd probably just get the same answer."

"Probably," I agreed. "Some people have too much pride. Others just don't want to admit something they loved hurt them that way… Maybe…he was a little bit of both." I had to think for a minute. "Wasn't there some other magician? Um…"

"Harry Houdini?" Xania suggested. I nodded. "Oh, I read all about him. And yes, I do read!" she snapped teasingly at me when I started to say something in reply. "He supposedly had a stomach of steel, and one day this one guy came up to him while he was distracted and asked if he could punch him in the stomach. Houdini just kinda nodded, and before he could ready himself, POW!" She made a punching motion with her arm. "He was socked in the stomach! Little while later, he got sick with appendicitis and performed with a 104-degree fever. His appendix burst, and he got…whatever sickness you get when that happens…and he died on Halloween. And y'know what else? There was one trick he said he would do, but to this day, over a hundred twenty-five years later, that he hasn't done."

"And what's that? Come back from the dead?" I asked curtly, not expecting it to be right.

Her jaw slackened. "Wha?! You knew?! Damn! …Yeah, he said he was gonna come back from the dead. Still hasn't done it. And after all this time, I bet he wouldn't look too pretty either."

"Hmm…what about that Lenin guy? Didn't they finally bury him about twenty years ago?"

She shuddered. "Yeah. I heard his body was about 85-percent wax though by the time they did. Ewwww. I'd hate to have been one of the guys bathin' his body every year, gluing his ear or his nose back on."

"That's gross!!"

"Embalming ain't perfect!" she joked, sticking her tongue out. "Though I think his dead corpse still looked decent enough as long as ya didn't look too close."

"Why are we talking about this?" I looked down at the snack in my hand and tossed it aside. "Now you made me lose my appetite."

Xania laughed again, her tail twitching. "Whoops, sorry! You wanna get goin' now? I bet we could get to the border by the end of the day."

"We could get there in a couple hours if we don't stop…which isn't gonna happen. This damn thing guzzles gas like nothing else!"

"It's a motorcycle! That's what they do!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I've had this thing for almost two years."

Two years?, I suddenly thought. Is that all? Oh, what had gone on in those two years…it seemed like the day I had gotten my bike was a lifetime ago. It was back before the whole Knight Saber thing, before I had even won at Nationals or gone to Worlds. That was…an entirely different me who had received this bike for her sixteenth birthday, a different me who had promptly also gotten her first speeding ticket that day. It was the last normal birthday I ever had. And as a birthday present the next year, turning seventeen, I'd almost gotten a bullet in my head, courtesy of Boh, if it hadn't been for a well-timed sneeze. The memory of that day still turned my stomach.

Out of reflex, I went and scratched the back of my head.

"You alright?" Xania asked.

"Huh? Yeah…I was just…reminiscing," I said. "It just seems I've had my bike forever. Like I've lived an entire lifetime with it, and yet…"

Xania offered a kind smile and put her hand on my shoulder. "Rosho, it's…it's all right. I know what you're gettin' at. I know it ain't the same, but I feel like I've had my tail for forever; I can't imagine what like was like without it, although I've only had it for, what, almost six years." She gasped. "Lemme see that map," she said suddenly.

"Why?" I asked, handing it to her.

"After Barstow we're gettin' on I-40, right?" She looked for Interstate 40 on the map, and once she located it, she traced her finger along that line on the map, seeing where it was going. "Oh shit!" she cried out.

"What? What is it?!"

"Dammit…God dammit…it goes right through Needles…fuck me!"

"What's so special about Needles?" I didn't need to look at the map to know it was the town right on the California-Arizona border. I'd eyed our route a hundred times in the last few days, so I knew which town was coming up after the other.

"…That's my hometown," she said hoarsely, taking off her shades with a shaking hand. "That's where I lived until I was ten, when I…bounced around from home to home until I came to live with my mom now."

I didn't know what to say. I should've expected that answer, but it was still a shock. "You know, Xania, we…we can go around it if you want," I offered. "There's other ways to get to the Grand Canyon. Hell, if we dodged Needles we'd probably end up going through Vegas like you wanted!"

Xania wiped away a tear and stood up defiantly. "Nope," she stated proudly, throwing her shades back on, a tight, defiant smile on her face. "We're goin' to Needles! 'Bout time I paid a visit anyway. Not all o' my memories of there are bad. I've got good ones. I wanna…at least revisit those good ones. That's worth the trip through…right?"

"Yeah. Of course it is," I agreed, returning a soft smile. "But still, I need to let you know right now…" I looked at the map. "Once we get to Barstow, you gotta make a decision. Either we get on I-40 and go right through Needles, or we take I-15 to Las Vegas."

"Screw Vegas," she spat vehemently. "It's my chance… It's my chance to…to face up to everythin', and…and finally say good riddance and fuck you to my parents!"

I smiled. There was the Xania I knew. "Good for you. Let's do it."

We got on the road again, and in no time, we were passing through Barstow. I gave Xania one more chance to choose our route to the Canyon from here on; she still chose I-40. And with that, we continued down through the heart of California, straight towards Arizona, Needles, and our ultimate destination.

At the same time, part of me knew that I was more than likely about to see a part of Xania that I would rather have not known existed.

-----

Xania had told me that from what she remembered, Needles was a small town that had only been getting smaller over the years. It regularly got to be 110 degrees in the summer, and with global warming it was only getting worse. Little wonder that not many people stayed in the town, especially with the lure of higher-paying jobs elsewhere. At first glance, I didn't have to ask at all why people would leave. There was nothing there. Most of the buildings were condemned, none of the cars there could have been any newer than 2035…nothing to be afraid of at all, unless you were a believer in ghosts.

"Looks like a dead town to me," I remarked. "Suppose there's a hotel we could stay for the night?"
"Yeah," she said quietly. "But I can't vouch for the quality of 'em."

"I don't care about the quality, just as long as there's a bed."

Xania just grunted as we slowly drove down a random street, looking for a hotel that looked like it was still running. Didn't take long to find one; it was about the only place I'd seen so far with any number of cars in the parking lot.

"We can go check in, and if you want, we can walk around," I suggested. "Does any of this look familiar to you?"

She just gulped stiffly and nodded, looking around. "Everything looks exactly the same as it did nine years ago. Creepy."

"Suppose anyone would remember you?"

"Why would they?" she spat in disgust as we walked into the small room that the hotel considered its check-in lobby. "If you saw a picture of me then, you wouldn't even believe that ten-year-old and me are the same person."

"How can I help you ladies today?" the lady at the desk asked. If I were to guess her age, I'd have said about fifty. She had mousey-colored hair, thin lips, small, sad brown eyes, and some of the skinniest arms I had ever seen. I had to rethink my stance on her age; it was apparent she had done drugs, and for a long time. They made her look way older; I repositioned myself to think that she was probably thirty or thirty-five, but looked fifty-five thanks to her apparent habit. And when she smiled at us…it took all my willpower not to hurl. Yep. The telltale signs of meth mouth were there. Xania turned her head; she recognized it as well.

"We just need a room for the night."

"Just you two?"

"Yes."

"Names?"

"Rocío Monterrey and Xania Peters."

"Alright, I have a double reserved for you up on the second floor. Has clean sheets, a bathroom, and the TV should be working alright, though the cable's been on the fritz lately so I can't promise anything there."

"That's fine."

She nodded as she typed our info into her computer, which must have been older than me and Xania. "Okay, your total is $62.50."

"Expensive for a roach motel," Xania coughed to herself as I handed over my debit card.

"Maybe so, Bridget," the lady said with a smile, "but I'd like to see you find a better one around here."

Xania did a double take; so did I, actually. How did this lady know Xania's real name?!

"Fuckin' A…" she spat under her breath. "I remember you…"

She stood up and walked around the desk, standing just in front of my shell-shocked friend. "I hope so. Because I recognized you the moment you walked in. It's been years and years, but that face and that haircut…I could never forget it…" She eyed Xania's tail curiously. "Though that is new to me…"

"Jill…" she sighed.

"Um…how do you know each other?" I interrupted.

"I was her neighbor," the lady, Jill, replied. "And the one who called the police."

"It wasn't your place…" Xania said, suddenly shaking, her head bowed, her eyes glued to the floor. "I was gonna get help for myself…"

"Well, I know that, but I didn't want to have you suffer any more in that house than you already had." She smiled sadly. "So, dear, what brings you back to Needles?"

"Spring break…me and Rosho are headin' for the Canyon."

"I'm glad to see you're doing well… Why did you change your name, anyway?"

"Bridget's boring," she said. "Xania's a cooler moniker."

"I must agree," she laughed.

"I don't remember you bein' a meth-head, though. The hell happened to you?"

Jill could only sigh and shake her head. "It's something I'd rather not discuss. I know you can't see it, but I've been clean for a year."

"Could at least get your teeth fixed," Xania said tartly. "Ain't there any dentists left here? I bet they'd make a fortune in this town."

"If there were, I still couldn't go. Nobody's gonna work for free, especially to help a druggie like me."

"Well, still, it's disgusting. Look like my dad's teeth." Xania shuddered. "Um…I don't suppose you know, but…d'you what happened to my parents? I…the last time I saw them was in court when they were giving up their parental rights or some shit like that."

"Bridget, I wish I knew, or I'd tell you."

"STOP that!!" she screamed. "I'm not Bridget anymore!! Call me Xania! I'm Xania Peters! I don't know any damn Bridget!"

"Xania…" I started, putting my hands on her shoulders.

"Don't touch me!" She tossed my hands off her, startling me.

"Br—er, Xania, hon, please," Jill offered, putting one of her own hands where mine had just been, "it's alright. I'm surprised you came back, to be honest. I know I wouldn't want to come back here, but me, personally, I don't have anywhere else to go. At least you got out of here while you still had a chance to have a life."

"I…I needed to come back," Xania said, her voice choking. I'd never seen her so close to tears before. It was unnerving, to say the least, but I can't say that it was unexpected. I'd learned to expect the unexpected from her. "Didn't want to, but…just to see if what I remember…really is as bad as I think it was."

"There's nothing worth remembering. Your old house is still there, but there's nothing inside to see."

"Never said I wanted to see the inside of it. I know what the inside looks like."

"Xania…" I said slowly, "maybe we should just head to our room, huh?"

She turned to me, looking at me like I was speaking Greek. "I…our…room? S-sure…I guess we could do that…"

Jill handed us the key to our room and told us which room it was. After we finished checking in, we headed outside, walked up some metal stairs to the outside balcony on the second floor, and headed down to a grey door which held our room number on it, faded but visible: 234. Inside was unimpressive, as I had expected: drab comforter and sheets on the two queen-size beds, beige walls, faded paintings hanging on said walls that were probably picked up at a flea market or something for three dollars, a small TV on an equally small dresser…and, thank God, a bathroom, the door to which was next to the TV. In the bathroom was crammed a toilet, sink, and shower, with hardly any room to move around in there otherwise. It would do; we would only be here for one night before moving on, anyway.

"It's not the Ritz, but at least it's clean, right?" I asked Xania, only to turn and find her sprawled out on one of the beds. She was snoring lightly, having seemingly passed right out the moment she laid down.

I couldn't blame her; who would've thought that upon coming into her old hometown, that she would come across somebody she knew? Not only any 'somebody,' but THE 'somebody' who had helped her get out of that house nine years ago. To use a phrase Michiko would have used, "Isn't that just the darndest coincidink?" I probably would have been overwhelmed too. I even bet that until Jill called her by her real name, that Xania hadn't even remembered her, much less thought about her over the years since her 'rescue.' It's funny, the things the mind will choose to remember and what it will block out. Fortunately, the things it blocks out are usually blocked out for a reason, and whatever was blocked out in my mind, I'm sure I wouldn't give a damn what any of those things were, not if they were only gonna cause me grief.

But still…what was the story there? The one between Xania and Jill? I didn't feel right asking Jill – I didn't know her at all – and the person I did want to ask was fast asleep in bed. I laid down in the other bed and folded my arms behind my head, staring up at the stained ceiling, watching the blades of the ceiling fan go 'round and 'round, just waiting for her to wake up. That was all I could do in order to not force the issue.

I didn't know how long I had been laying there, but by the time I opened my eyes, having closed them to concentrated on my thoughts, the light streaming in through the window was orange, which told me the sun was setting. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Xania start to stir. I just watched as she sat up and took off her shades, rubbing one of her eyes with her fist.

"Xania?"

She turned to look at me. "…What?" she asked hesitantly. "You weren't here the whole time, were you? You coulda gone out to do some sightseein'."

"I wanted to talk to you," I replied, sitting up. "Besides, I figured it'd be best if we did that together. Didn't want to leave you alone, the way you are right now and all."

"The way I am?" she repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're a wreck! You've been like this practically from the moment we passed the Welcome to Needles sign!"

"What's it matter to you?"

"It matters a lot to me! You say you're not Bridget anymore, but it's more than damn clear to me that that ten-year-old who got rescued from the meth house is still inside you somewhere. If you weren't her anymore, you wouldn't give a damn about passing through here. But look at you, you're…you're not the Xania I've known the past seven months. You've reverted. You ARE Bridget again. And you're scared. But why? I know this is the place where you've had all that stuff happen to you, but those people aren't here anymore. With any luck they're rotting in jail the next fifty years. This town is a shell of what I'm sure it used to be. There's nothing to threaten you here now. It's your memories scaring you…not the town itself." I chuckled nervously. "I'm a hypocrite now. I guess we all are at some point. I say it's the memories scaring you, but I think if I went by the site where the convention center used to be…I'd…" I took a breath. "I don't know…what I'd do. I've been avoiding it on purpose."

"You ARE a hypocrite," Xania agreed, hugging her knees as she nodded slowly, setting her shades on the nightstand. "At least you admitted it."

"So why don't you start from the beginning?" I suggested, getting up from my bed and sitting next to her on hers. "Beginnings aren't bad."

"They're not, huh? But you're a product of rape."

"That's…before the beginning. Mom DID love me from the beginning, from the moment I was born. Now, what's your earliest memory?"

"You sure you're not a psychotherapist?"

"You kidding? I can't stand them. It's just a question. Now tell me, what is it?"

"My earliest memory?" Xania leaned back, her hands behind her for support, and closed her eyes. "I remember a park…funny, 'cause there ain't none around here…but I was in a park, and…Dad was carrying me on his shoulders. I was laughing. I musta been three or four."

"See? That's not bad."

"Ok, smartass. What's yours?"

"Mine?" I smiled as the scene put itself together in my mind. "Mine is…of my mom. She was recording. I remember sitting on a stool, watching her from the other side of the glass, just being awed by her voice. It was her first album after she had me, so I was probably four."

"Everything's nice when you're still a toddler…which makes me wonder, why does everythin' suddenly change when you're older?" she wondered out loud.

"Life experiences make us less naïve about the world, I suppose," I said.

"Heh. I suppose that might be it. Life experiences aren't supposed to come bite you in the ass when you're seven though! That's when Mom…started cookin' weird shit in the kitchen. I'd come home from school, and I'd see all these weird bottles on the kitchen table, stuff you'd use for cleanin' or first aid. I remember seein' ammonia, and a bottle of peroxide she'd use to clean up my scrapes. I asked 'er what she was doin', and she said it was stuff that wasn't for kids; 'candy for grown-ups,' she called it. And I'll tell ya, it didn't smell like no candy I'd ever wanna try.

"I think about it now and wonder when she first got hooked, 'cause it just seemed like out of the blue she suddenly started cookin' that 'candy' twice a week. She and Dad would grind it up, snort it, then just start talkin' and laughin' together. And then, when ya think everything's ok, they'd start screaming at each other. I'd hide an' cry in my room. It happened more and more, and I'd start bein' afraid to come home after school, 'cause I didn't wanna see them screamin' at each other. But one day I came home and they were doin' just that. Mom was rippin' stuff off the walls and throwin' it at Dad, and one picture frame hit me in the head, and I started cryin'. Mom stopped and looked at me; you'd think she'd start apologizin' or somethin', but no, she started goin' off on me too! Screaming stuff that didn't make sense. After that, I'd just sit outside when I got home from school, and wait for it to be over."

"And…you were seven when it started?" I asked.

"Yeah. It got even worse after that, too, if you can believe it. Sometimes a couple of their guy friends would come over with a carload of shit used to make more of THAT shit. And one day, they'd ran out of stuff, so they took off with Mom and Dad to the store to go buy some, and they all told me to watch the kitchen, make sure the 'candy' didn't burn. And what did I do?" She smirked. "I let it burn. And then I dumped it in the trash. They got home, saw what I did, and started pullin' my hair and yellin' at me. They forbade me to go into the kitchen at all after that, but whenever I did, and I started to grab the pot from the stove, they'd pull me back by my hair. Sometimes they'd get fistfuls of it out by the roots. I dreaded that, but I knew I had to get rid of that stuff. I thought if I did…I'd get my real parents back…" Xania started wiping at her eyes. "Shit, as much as I hated gettin' my hair pulled, what I REALLY hated was when they'd make me eat it as punishment. They'd break off a tiny piece, then shove it down my throat, holdin' my mouth shut and holdin' my head back to make sure I swallowed it. Made me so fuckin' sick… I'd go to the bathroom right afterwards and puke it up. It tasted…so nasty. And they'd…they'd just laugh. My reaction was how they judged how good the meth was."

I had to resist the urge to start swearing like a sailor. How terrible these parents of hers were! What kind of parents would do that to their own kid?! But I bit my tongue and tried to stay calm, for her sake. "Earlier you said it only happened three or four times. Is that true?"

"Thankfully, yeah. But…"

"But what?"

She was trembling. "I dunno! I…wish they'd known I was tryin' to save 'em! But they just saw me as getting in the way of their fun! Didn't they…love me?!"

"Xania…"

"The school would call 'em for conferences 'cause they were worried about my grades; they'd been fallin' the past year or two. They'd never go, of course, 'cause they were too busy gettin' high. I'd have to steal from other kids' lunches 'cause they'd never pack me one. I was thankful when I got detention, 'cause that meant I wouldn't have to see Mom and Dad in their messed-up state for a while longer yet. I got in trouble a lot; I'd pull all sorts of pranks…at least I was gettin' attention for something."

I didn't say anything.

"Know what else is funny? One day Mom actually checked the answerin' machine, and when she heard about me gettin' into trouble at school, she went off on another of her tangents again! She said she didn't understand what was goin' on with me, why I was bein' such a bad girl! Can you believe that?" She wiped tears from her eyes. "And she started pullin' my hair, again. I kicked her, in the stomach…just to get away. And I ran and got a pair of scissors, and snip snip, all my hair was gone. I was practically bald. At least she couldn't pull my hair anymore. She looked at me all shocked, then just said 'Do whatever the fuck you want. I don't care.'"

"…You were nine then." I'd recalled that from our earlier conversation.

"Yeah," she nodded. "You'd think I'd have tried to ask somebody for help, help to get my parents back, but I was fuckin' scared, Rosho. I…I was scared they'd be mad at me if I told anybody else. So I didn't. And then one day, out o' nowhere…the cops showed up, caught 'em redhanded. The pot was boiling on the stove, my parents and their friends were laughin' it up…and I was layin' in bed, sick from the fumes. They came and knocked on the door, and Mom answered. She and the others got a little paranoid and started screamin', but the cops arrested 'em, and came upstairs and carried me down the stairs. They set up a tent in the street where they could spray me down and decontaminate me. I couldn't get anything from the house; it was all ruined, they said. I was in the hospital for a couple days for observation, then I went into the system."

"And that's how you ended up with your foster mom?"

"Not right away. I had four foster families before I lived with her. None of them could put up with me. From what I remember, I guess I didn't…trust them enough. I was afraid they would be messed up just like my parents were."

"For nineteen…I think you have some pretty good insight into what went on," I pointed out. "Not everybody would recognize that they only acted a certain way for a certain reason. Normally they'd just start pointing fingers and say 'I'm messed up because of him' and not know why."

"Back then I didn't know I was being bad. With the foster families, I mean. I was just…tryin' to get by. They'd be nice and all, but I'd always wonder what the catch was. 'What's the catch? Why are you being nice? What do you want from me?' That sort of thing."

"And your current foster mom is the only one who could get through to you?"

"I wouldn't say she's gotten through. I just think she's the only one willing to put up with me. Hell, I aged out of the system a year ago, but she's still let me live there."

"I know. Greg told me."

"…Greg?! Why the hell did he do that?! The son of a bitch!"

"He told me he still cares about you. He says you're still distrusting of people, even him, and that's why you broke up." I held up a hand to stop her when she started to protest. "And I KNOW you said it was because you were bored with him, but…maybe you fell in love and were afraid of what to do with that feeling. It's not like HE'S an addict."

"He's…a good guy," Xania admitted. "But…he's…he can be too much sometimes. He told me about his dream to join the Army or Marines or some shit, and…"

A light clicked in my head. So that was it.

"You knew he'd have to leave for BT. And you didn't think he'd come back or still have the same feelings for you," I realized. "Is that it?"

For the first time, I saw Xania break down in tears. She buried her face in her knees and convulsed with the sobs coming from her. I reached out a hand to try to comfort her, but it froze in mid-air. I didn't know what to do. I'd never seen her like this.

"Xania…"

"People suck," she cried. "You give your love to them and all they do is turn around and stomp on it. It's not worth it."

"I used to think that way," I told her. "Until I came here, Mr. Ishiodori was the only guy that I thought was an honest and loving guy, who could do no harm to anyone. I didn't trust men or guys at all otherwise. And usually it was because all they wanted to do was sleep with me. You know how many guys I've punched out because of that? Anyway…when I came here, I met Tyler and Greg…and I learned that there ARE decent guys in the world."

"And I've wondered why you're still a virgin," Xania joked through her tears.

I smirked. "You've slept with all those guys because you were looking for some sort of love and affection. You didn't get it from them, so you left. And when you found a guy you COULD get it from…you still left. I know why: you were scared, like you said. But…sometimes you just have to take a chance. I know I still need to. And…" I suddenly huffed; what was I saying? "And…I'm not ready to yet," I finished quickly. "I'll do it on my own time. But, Xania…maybe you should give Greg a chance. He's a good guy, and he does like me, but…I think you're the one he really loves. All he does is talk about you."

"…You think so?"

"Yeah. I'm not experienced in relationships, but I can honestly say that he does love you. And based on your reaction when I bring him up, I can see you love him too. So when we get back to Sacramento…you should give it another shot with him. I think it'll turn out all right this time around."

Xania wiped at her eyes again and lifted her head. They were bloodshot, which made the blue of her eyes even more shocking. "I…maybe…maybe I could. But I'm still not sure…"

"It could be a first step. You've been suffering for nine years. You deserve to have someone who loves you."

"Really?"

"Yes. Everyone does…oh God, do I sound naïve right now or what…"

She burst out laughing. "You sure do!! And I still gotta set you up with somebody!"

I smirked again. "Um…no thanks. We're talking about you here."

Xania practically threw herself against me at that moment, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck. "I'm glad to have someone like you," she cried. "I dunno how on earth we managed to become friends, with the way I am and the way you were back then, but…I guess this was the reason, so you could help me."

I sighed and hugged her back, at the same time having a similar conversation appear in my head. It was from last summer…when Michiko and I had gone to relax in a spa. She'd found out I was a Knight Saber, and yet she swore to be there for me…

"No matter what you're doing…I'm still gonna be here to support you. Vigilante or not…I'm still going to stand by you. It's not my place to say whether…whether you should quit or stay."

"I…appreciate it. You've always been a good friend, Micchan. I don't…don't know how I could have gotten through a lot of this without you."

"That's why I'm here, Yucchan. I wouldn't be being a good friend if I didn't stay around when you needed me."

"Rosho? Are you ok? You're shaking." Xania's voice suddenly pierced my head, shocking me back into reality.

"Y-yeah," I said, letting go of her. "I was just…getting déjà vu." That conversation seemed so far away now…had that really been less than a year ago? And where was she now? She had promised to be there for me no matter what… "M-Michiko…said she'd be there for me…it was kinda like this, except we were in a Jacuzzi-like tub in a spa."

"I think she's still here. She's watchin' over you and everybody. You oughta be proud of her. People all say they'd die for somebody, but she actually did it. She loved you. She still does. And so do I."

What about Mom and the others, then?, I thought as she hugged me again. Do they still wonder about me, how I'm doing? Am I still Yumeko inside somewhere?

-----

I had known for a while that Xania smoked marijuana every so often; as far as I knew, she hadn't done it since she met me. So it didn't strike me as too out of the ordinary when she suggested we go to a local bar. "They ain't gonna card us," she promised. "I don't think they'd give a shit who drank there, as long as they had some business."

"Me and liquor don't mix very well…" I reminded her stoically.

"Well, that was vodka and punch. That's hard-core. Just try out a beer or somethin', and learn your limit that way."

"At least if I get a hangover, I know you can always cook a good breakfast for me!"

"Too bad I'm not the one cookin' tomorrow though! I think our choices are either stale bagels from the motel, or gas station burritos."

I shook my head, practically digging my heels into the ground. This whole bar thing didn't seem like a good idea to me, and that was if you didn't include my experience with the vodka and Rob at the party. Including it, it just spelled disaster. I could imagine Xania bringing some strange guy back to our motel room and having raunchy sex with him with me being forced to watch. Nope, not a good idea, not to me.

"For God sakes, Rosho! Lighten up!" she snapped at me, slapping me on the shoulder. "Just 'cause it involves a little booze don't mean it's gonna turn out like that thing did with Rob!"

"That 'thing'? He practically raped me! How am I supposed to let that go? I was hoping my first time being touched like that would have been special…" I blushed when I realized what I was saying, but I continued. "I…I can't get that back now. All I can do is…"

"Die without knowin' what 'love,' quote unquote, is? So cliché, especially for you." She grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the motel room and down the stairs. "I promise, I am NOT tryin' to get you laid. I'M not even tryin' to get laid. I just figure we gotta have a good time. It's spring break, remember?! And after today…phew, damn, I'm up for a stiff one, bad."

That better not be some kind of double innuendo, I thought. "It's not a smart idea," I said again. "How do we get back here if we're both drunk?"

Xania looked at me as if I had three heads. "Uh, duh! I saw a bar a half-block down the street when we got here! We can just walk!"

"You're insisting on us getting drunk, aren't ya!"

"Damn straight I am!"

"Well…as long as you don't do certain things."

"What do you mean?"

I smirked as we walked out of the motel complex and headed towards this bar Xania had said she'd seen. "Mom used to tell me about Aunt Nene doing strange things whenever she got drunk…like stripping. Nene would deny it, of course, and I honestly don't know who to believe." I laughed. "Either way, it's still a funny story."

"Believe you me, I can hold my liquor better than that." She paused, then added playfully, "but you may end up exposed to a little off-key karaoke."

"Is there any other kind?" I joked.

"I have yet to hear any other, so touché."

The bar looked just as run-down as any other building in town, and just like any other cliché bar you'd see, there was the obligatory 'Budweiser' florescent sign hanging in the window. I let out a sigh, preparing myself for the worst as Xania opened the door and we both walked inside.

A few men sitting at the bar looked up, but thankfully they didn't make catcalls at us; I had half-expected that to be the case. I loosened my fist, having had it ready just in case.

"See?! Karaoke!!" Xania exclaimed loudly, pointing to the far corner of the bar, where a small stage, stereo, and TV stood, waiting to be used. I groaned to myself.

"Do you have to be so loud?" I snapped under my breath.

"Hi there, ladies!" the bartender called out. "How are you this evening?"

"In need of something stiff!" Xania said, skipping up to the counter and pulling out a stool to sit on. "Get me a shot of Southern Comfort."

"You old enough?"

"Old enough to know that I need some," she retorted lightly, making me snicker. The bartender smiled, looking amused.

"What about your friend there?"

"I'll just…have a Bud," I said, sitting next to Xania; I didn't know what else to ask for. I knew enough to know that some Jack Daniels would be too strong. I had never heard of Southern Comfort before, but once Xania's shot was handed to her and she immediately jerked her head back and slammed it down, I knew it was something I wouldn't have given her again.

"WHEW!!!" she hooted. "That's some good shit! Get me another!"

"'Whew' is right," I reiterated, waving my hand in front of my face. "Smells like cough syrup."

"Tastes like it too! But it's good! Wanna try a shot?"

"No, I'll just stick with my beer." I twisted off the bottlecap with my bare hand – thanks to my gymnastics training, they were so callused it hadn't even hurt – and took a sip, grimacing when the strange flavor saturated my mouth. I swallowed, then took another sip; wasn't as bad that time. I figured that would be alright. Didn't need to experiment. At least it didn't taste like that vodka-spiked punch.

Xania had three shots of the Comfort stuff, then asked for a bottle of Captain Morgan's. All I could do was gape; she'd already seemed drunk after the second shot, and here she was having a bottle of more booze on top of that. She'd just turned nineteen, so I was hoping she wasn't gonna try to have nineteen drinks to celebrate. I'd heard of people doing that when they turned twenty-one, but twenty-one shots would be enough to kill a horse, I'm sure. Thankfully, once she polished off her bottle, Xania seemed content.

But then, she did what every drunk person seems to love to do.

She went up to the karaoke machine.

"Rosho!!" she called out to me. "Sing wi' me!!"

"What?!"

"You heard me! Let's duet!"

"Xania, you're drunk!!"

"An' I told ya, off-key karaoke! It's what you're gonna hear!! Now let's do it!!" She urged me to come onto the stage with her.

"I'm not done with my beer," I pointed out, hoping to stall her. But it didn't faze her.

"Finish it! Chug it! C'mon!" she bellowed.

I groaned. At that moment, the other guys in the bar started hooting and hollering at me to get up there and join her. "No!" I snapped, though my resolve was fading; for some reason my legs wanted to move me onto that stage. Maybe it was the beer talking, but no; I didn't feel drunk. I wasn't drunk. Was I? No…this didn't feel like that vodka did, and yet…

"It's My Life! I already chose the song! You know it?" Xania yelled. I reluctantly nodded. "Good! Now get your ass up here!"

I groaned again, then drank the last half of my beer and trudged up to the stage with her, the half-dozen guys in the bar cheering.

"Ain't seen a gal do this in months!" one guy exclaimed, a Michelob in his hand.

"What's your plan?" I mumbled to her, blushing in embarrassment. I'd never sung in front of a crowd before!!

"You can do the first verse, I'll do the second, and we both can sing the chorus!" she chirped.

The music started. BUM BUM…a piano playing for a few seconds…another BUM BUM…more piano… I took a breath and grabbed the microphone nearest me. God, what am I doing?!, I thought. Guess I'll go for it!

"This ain't a song for the broken-hearted," I sang, tossing my hair back over my shoulder. "No silent prayer for the faith-departed. I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd, you're gonna hear my voice when I shout it out loud…"

BUM BUM…

"It's my liiiiife," me and Xania both yelled into our mikes, "and it's now or never! I ain't gonna live forever! I just wanna live while I'm alive! My heart is like an open highway; like Frankie said, I did it my way! I just wanna live while I'm alive! It's—my—life!!"

The crowd cheered loudly. I didn't know if it was from me being half-drunk or from me actually singing in front of everybody, but I felt a high unlike anything I'd felt before, aside from my gymnastics. This was pretty damn awesome.

"This is for the ones who stood their ground," Xania crooned. "For Tommy and Gina, who never backed down. Tomorrow's gettin' harder, make no mistake. Luck ain't even lucky, gotta make your own breaks…"

BUM BUM…

As we sang the chorus again, I could feel myself feeling, as the song said, more alive. Live while you're alive…it seemed like common sense, but I guess until you actually hear those words, you just get too busy to even think about it.

"Better stand tall when they're callin' you out; don't bend, don't break, baby, don't back down," I let out before Xania and I both let out into the chorus twice more, as the song called for. And as we let out that final, "IT'S—MY—LIFE!!" everyone stood up and cheered, clapping and clinking their beers together. I let out a breath and tucked my hair behind my ears, grinning; that was so different from what I had anticipated. I could understand why Mom lived for this sort of thing!

"Now," Xania called out, "howzabout we sing that other song that talks about Tommy and Gina, huh?!" The crowd vehemently agreed.

"Yeah, yeah! Hell yeah! Do it!!"

"Other song…?" I asked. "I think I know which one that is…"

"The guy's first major hit as far as I know," Xania said, grinning from ear to ear. "Livin' on a Prayer."

"Oh, right! That one! It's been a while since I've heard it…"

"Don't worry, you'll know it the moment you hear it."

Before I knew it, the music started, and I froze up. I wasn't sure if I knew the lyrics, but Xania apparently did. She burst right into it.

"Once upon a time, not so long ago…" And then she sang, "Tommy used to work on the docks. Union went on strike, and he's down on his luck, it's tough. So tough." A breath. "Gina works a diner all day. Workin' for her man, she brings home her pay for love. For love…"

The words clicked in my head then. I did know the song. Before she could sing the next verse, I burst in. "She says we gotta hold on to what we've got. It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not. We got each other, and that's a lot – for love, we'll give it a shot!"

Xania recovered from her shock and joined me in the chorus. "Ohhh, we're halfway there. Ohhh, livin' on a prayer. Take my hand; we'll make it, I swear. Ohhh, livin' on a prayer!"

It's what I'd been doing the whole time I'd been in California, living on a prayer, so to speak. I wanted to go home…wanted to be normal…but in the end it didn't matter. It didn't matter what I wanted; I couldn't control the course of events now. All I could do was live my life, while I was alive.

Damn. I'd integrated the song's lyrics into my very being. Maybe I was drunker than I thought.

After that song was over, I'd half-expected Xania to start singing You Give Love a Bad Name, but she didn't. She seemed satisfied with the two songs, and hopped off the stage, humming to herself happily. I remained on the stage, holding the mike in both hands, frozen. I wanted to do more. I wanted to sing one more song. But what song, I wondered?

"I need some suggestions here," I said shyly, wincing when I immediately was greeted with a barrage of song names and bands. Over at the bar, Xania just snickered to herself and shook her head. "What say you, Xania?" I spoke into the mike. "Any suggestions?"

"Replicants," she coughed jokingly. The crowd seemed to like that idea, and cheered.

"Well, what song by them, huh? They've got a lot."

"Can you sing their songs, though?" one guy in a white blouse called out. "Unless you speak Jap, I don't see how."

"Jap?" I repeated with a frown. "I don't know this 'Jap.' The lyrics are in Japanese, yeah, but not Jap. They're easy enough. I'm a fan, so I know the lyrics."

"So belt one out!" his friend, also in a white blouse, encouraged.

"I will, but which song?"

"I dunno, that hurricane one. Or one off their new album."

"Konya wa Hurricane or one off the new album. Still a lot of choices there," I said. "I dunno. Konya wa Hurricane sounds good to me. What about you all?"

The crowd cheered again. I smirked. "Ok, that's the one then."

The opening beat started, one that was all too familiar. If Mom had only made one album and been a one-hit wonder, I was sure this song would have been her one hit. Hell, it was still her most famous song to this day. Even the hicks here seemed to know it, which made me believe they weren't such hicks after all.

"OK!!" I yelled out. "Arashi no highway hashiri-tsuzuketa, togireta yume no yukue sagashite. Nigai maboroshi subete no uso o senaka de hajikitobashite…" A few bars. "Big City kodoku na Heart To Heart. Minna ai no mayoigo. Big City namida wa Day By Day, nemurenai omoi o yusaburu dake!"

The crowd may not have known the words, but they did join me in the chorus. "Konya wa Hurricane! Anata ni Hurricane! Tsutaetai no Loving You! Konya wa Hurricane! Kanjite Hurricane! Sugao no mama Touch! Give Me Touch!"

I smiled. I really did feel like my mom now. "You people are too much!" I joked before starting on the second part. "Kotoba no darts nageau dake ja mune no itami wa wakariaenai. Oshiete hoshii nani ga anata no hitomi o kumoraseru no ka."

As I sang the rest of the song, I could feel a part of her with me, her feeling proud of me, not just for singing, but for just living, for just…being. Singing her songs made me feel less lonely, made me feel normal for just a little while.

As long as I sang, she was there with me. I didn't need anything else.

-----

Xania was positively giddy when we left the bar; she was giggling and grabbing onto my arm; little wonder there, since I was holding it to make sure she didn't fall over. "That was so awesome!!" she exclaimed, her shades almost falling off her face. "Are you sure we have to leave?! Can't we stay there all night? I bet if they let us we could!"

"I'm tired," I replied, though I felt sort of giddy myself. "And you need some sleep. You're barely even coherent anymore."

"Coherent?! I'm coherent! I sang those songs, didn't I? And the crowd loved us! They loved me! They loved you! They loved…everybody! What a swell gang of people! Really, really swell!!" She giggled again, losing her footing when she tripped on a small rock on the sidewalk.

"Needles isn't as bad as you remember, see? People here seem to be really welcoming."

"They're passin' through, I bet. Yeah, passin' through. They ain't…got a clue what this place is all about," she said, brushing me off with a wave of her hand, though her face still looked extremely flushed. "One good night ain't gonna make up for the first ten years o' my life."

"No, but it helps."

"…Maybe." She gave me an uncertain smirk. "Hey, I got an idea for tomorrow! Uh…what's today?"

"Today is Sunday. We still have the whole break ahead of us. What's your idea?"

"We could stick around tomorrow! I wanna…I wanna see my old house! I bet it's a piece o' shit now, but I wanna see anyway."

"I thought you didn't want to see it."

"I changed my mind! Can I still do that, or is it illegal now?"

"No, it's legal. But earlier you were adamant about not going to see it."

"Still changed my mind!"

"Ok, ok, but first, you're going to bed. You're gonna be sore in the morning."

"Wha' 'bout you?" she asked with a slur in her voice as I dragged her up the stairs to our motel room.

"I only had one bottle of Budweiser. You had three shots of whiskey and a bottle of Captain Morgan's."

"Pfft. Ain't nothin'! I coulda done way more than that! Next time I'll show ya!"

I gave her a look. "Um…no."

I unlocked the door and gave her a shove inside. She stumbled, but managed to make her way to her bed. Remembering that she slept in the nude, I turned my back to her when she took off her jacket, and sure enough, the sound of the rest of her clothes falling to the floor followed.

"Good niiiight," she called out as she giggled again.

"Good night," I replied evenly. In seconds, she was out.

I sighed and smirked, shaking my head. Xania was definitely an eccentric person, but I'd known that already. Going to a bar to unwind may not have been the smartest thing for either of us to do, and not just because we were underage. But hell, the karaoke made it worth it, even if Xania had almost made an ass of herself by slurring her way through Livin' on a Prayer.

After I changed into a nightshirt and crawled under the covers, I could feel my hands twitch slightly. I sighed again and balled them up so they wouldn't do that. But then my feet twitched. What the hell was up with that? I sat up in bed and scratched the back of my head; maybe it was because I couldn't get to sleep, or maybe it was the aftereffects of that beer. Sure, I was a rookie at drinking, but one beer shouldn't have done that.

The longing feeling in the pit of my stomach made me realize what it was. I needed a hit! I reached into my bag and pulled out the white bottle, filling up the dropper. As I squirted the liquid on my tongue and swallowed it down, my stomach got warm and tingly, and I smiled. That felt better. Strange that after a fun evening like this, that I would need a hit, but I didn't think anything of it. Unlike the beer, the hydromorphone made my whole body warm, but it almost made me wonder why I would need that warm feeling when we were in the freakin' desert! Nah…this is a different warm feeling. I like this warm feeling, I thought, putting away the bottle before I crawled under the covers again.

I jumped when I heard a snorting noise, like Xania was waking up. Had she seen me?

"Aaaahh…halfway there…livin'…"

Oh, she's singing in her sleep!, I thought, stifling a laugh. That was all right. I could handle that. As long as it was only that.

The next morning, she was saying an entirely different kind of 'aaaahh,' the kind that goes with having had too much to drink the night before.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch," she groaned, wincing as she buried her face in the pillow.

"Weren't prepared this time, huh?" I joked as I came out of the bathroom, fresh out of the shower. The water had only been lukewarm, but as long as I got clean, I didn't care.

"This time? Whatcha mean?"

"When I got a hangover, you told me you were always prepared 'in case you were hurtin' in the morning.' You didn't bring anything, did you?"

"…Uh…uh-uh," she confessed. "Didn't think to bring any aspirin. Damn. I did have too much fun."

"We both did! Remember karaoke?"

"Yup." She smiled, her face albeit contorted in pain. "I think we brought down the house. Acted like they'd never seen anybody do karaoke b'fore. I wanna do it again. Can we do it again?"

"Sure, as long as you don't drink what you did last night," I laughed. "You're not gonna remember much of break if you keep doing that!"

She sat up in bed, holding the covers over her breasts so she could stay decent. "I said…I wanted to see the house again. Didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did. But you were hammered. Did you mean that?"

"Yeah," she affirmed, nodding slowly. "I guess it wouldn't hurt. No one's gonna be there, right? So it's not like anything's gonna happen. The worst that can happen is…"

"…Is you having a blackout like me?" I finished, throwing that suggestion out into the open. "We're alike, Xania, but I hope we're not THAT much alike."

"I've never had one. I don't…think that'll be a problem."

"We should check out first though, unless you intend to stay another night."

"No, no," she said quickly, stepping out of bed. I closed my eyes and turned my back to her; no matter how many times she pranced naked in front of me, it still embarrassed me. "I just wanna take a look at the house and then we can get the hell out of here. How far is it to Phoenix?"

"I would have to look at the guide, but we could probably get there by the end of the day if we don't stick around here too long."

"And as long as your bike doesn't overheat," she added as I heard her walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower. "It gets pretty damn hot out here, you know."

"I know, but it hasn't been a problem so far."

"As long as your tires don't melt, I don't think we'll have any problems," she teased, her voice getting muffled as she stepped behind the shower curtain.

"They can do that?"

"I've heard of it happening. Haven't seen it, but I wouldn't count it out."

"So, what're we doing for breakfast? Are our only options still stale bagels or gas station burritos?" I asked, repeating what she'd said the day before. I got no response. "Xania?"

"We'll see, I guess," she responded, sounding pained. "Oww, my head."

I just laughed.

-----

Xania took forever in the shower, which surprised me; the water definitely wasn't that hot. But soon enough she did come out and get dressed, and after we both packed up our bags, we left and went down to the lobby to check out.

"Don't forget breakfast, girls," Jill reminded us as she took the keys to the room, nodding towards a small living room-type area, where there was a couch, a TV, and a table with donuts and juice sitting out. "Somethin' for the road."

"We're not heading out just yet," I said. "Xania wanted to look around."

"Rosho!" Xania hissed.

Jill raised an eyebrow. "Look around? But yesterday didn't she say…"

"Yeah, she did, but she changed her mind."

"I'm not curious or nothin'!" Xania broke in. "I'm just…uh…"

"Curious?"

"I just said I'm not!"

"She changed her mind in a fit of drunkenness," I half-joked.

"Drunk?" Jill looked at Xania with a scornful eye. "Bridget, it's been a while since I've seen ya, but I KNOW you ain't old enough to be hitting the bottle."

"So? Better than meth," she spat back. "I don't drink all the time anyway."

"Binging is still bad in itself."

"And so is meth! What's your point, huh?"

I walked away from the pair and sat down on the couch, grabbing myself a donut and a cup of orange juice. The juice was warm, but I didn't mind. I sat there drinking it down and watching the news on the TV while they duked it out.

"Hey there!" I heard a guy call out. I turned around and saw it was the two guys in white blouses who had been in the bar the night before, the ones who had egged me on to sing Konya wa Hurricane. They were still wearing white blouses, but whether they were the same ones as last night, I couldn't tell.

"Hi," I said. "Small world, huh?"

"And smaller town. You're pretty good as a singer, y'know that?" the shorter one, who had a buzzcut, said. "You sound almost exactly like the gal who sings it originally."

"I do not," I replied, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

"Know any other songs of hers?"

"I'm a fan, so yeah, of course I do. But I'm not singing here," I laughed.

"Was that your favorite song?"

"Of hers? No. Victory is my favorite."

"The oldies are the goodies, so they say," the second one, taller and with a longer face, said.

"They're not THAT old. One of the songs me and Xania sang last night is from the 1980's. Call THAT one old…although I do think that the Replicants' singer got her influence from those types of bands." I shrugged. "I'm just a fan, so what do I know?" I took a bite of my donut.

"She's making a cover album, ya know," he said. "Just started work on it."

"…She is?!" I jumped out of my seat, almost dropping my juice in surprise. I swallowed my donut quickly. "I mean…I hadn't heard that! What songs is she covering?"

The shorter guy shrugged. "She named off a few possibilities at a conference a few weeks ago, but I think she's keeping the choices under wraps until she's finished."

Mom making a cover album? How strange, I thought. I never thought she'd actually do one of those. "Well…you can bet I'll be one of the first people lined up outside the music store to buy it when it comes out!" I declared, trying to make myself seem as outlandish as possible. I wasn't THAT big of a music geek, even for my mom's music. I was usually in the studio with her as she worked on those songs, anyway.

Well…usually…but not this time.

"I take it you're heading out?" the tall one said, nodding towards the bags that sat by the couch.

"Yeah. We were just passing through."

"Where ya heading?"

"The Grand Canyon. Never seen it before. Wasn't my idea though, it was Xania's. I'm just the chauffeur," I joked. "What about you? You look dressed too nice to be in a place like Needles."

"We're passing through, too," the short one answered with a smirk. "Business trip."

"Oh. Well, if you're heading east, maybe we'll see each other on the road."

"Maybe we will." They gave a wave as they walked out the door. "See you later."

"—Forget it!!" Xania yelled. "I don't want your pity! Never did!"

"If I hadn't called the police," Jill snapped, "what do you think would have happened? Huh? What do you think would have become of you in that hellhole?"

"I dunno!! And I don't care anymore, 'cause I ain't there anymore! That was then, and no matter what you say or ask about back then, nothin' is gonna change the fact that that place was what it was!"

"And it made you what you are! You know that!"

"Yeah, I do! And I hate it!"

"You guys are still arguing?" I interrupted, scratching the side of my head as I picked up my bag.

"I'm trying to tell her she didn't need to call the cops!" Xania explained, looking ready to spit on something. "I could take care of it myself!"

"I witnessed what you went through every day! Sitting on the porch, waiting for the right moment to go inside! Bridget, you'd be out there for hours! All those times when you'd come over to my place to wait it out…you don't remember that?" Jill queried. "You don't remember telling me you wish I was your mom, 'cause I actually 'gave you real candy'? You were too scared. Even if you planned to do something, I didn't think you'd do it anytime soon, so I HAD to act! For your sake!"

"Shut up…SHUT UP!!" Xania screamed. "You bitch!! I never said any of that! I didn't!!"

Now this, she hadn't gotten a chance to tell me.

"You did, dear. You did." Jill tried to put her hands on Xania's shoulders, but she tossed them off. "You were so fragile, so lonely…I did what I could without your strung-up mother putting her kitchen knife through my chest. She was paranoid; she thought she was raising you just fine. I knew better, and you knew better."

"She was my mom…I WANTED to…I wanted to get her back…even if I had to wait it out…" my friend suddenly cried. "I thought being there would…would help her, help Dad… I didn't eat half those snacks you gave me. I took them back to Mom and Dad; I wanted 'em to eat something besides those meth crystals, something, anything but those. Anything but…"

"I know…but you know, too, that I saved your life. These past nine years…you've had a chance to know what normal life is supposed to be like. You owe me nothing, so don't act like you're forever indebted to me. Just as long as you're not here…as long as you're anywhere BUT here…I know you'd have a chance at happiness. So get out of here, for good. Don't even come to visit. Leave this place behind for good. Let it only be a memory."

"Walking cliché book…" Xania muttered under her breath. "I didn't intend on stickin' around, ya know. Passin' through, that's all we're doin' here. Once we're gone, we're gone. Not even gonna stop here on the way back."

"Good. Good…"

I sighed and walked outside to wait for her to finish 'talking' with Jill. It didn't feel like it was my place, and it wasn't. I was sure if Xania intended for me to hear any of those things, she would have said so. The fact she didn't stop me as I left was proof she hadn't wanted me to hear any of it to begin with.

I took out my bottle of morphine and held it in my palm, gazing down at it. Drugs had made different people out of Xania's parents. Morphine was a drug…but it wasn't even on the same field as methamphetamines. Still…I knew it had its addictive properties, but I was certain that I wouldn't befall the same fate as her parents. I was stronger than that. Morphine did not have a hold on me. I only had it to help with my pain…my physical pain, my mental pain…

There no way I would let myself become addicted. I knew the signs, I knew the danger. I was smart enough to avoid that trap.

I put the bottle away in my jacket pocket. I'm stronger than that, I thought. I am stronger than that. I know I am. There's no way I would let a stupid bottle run my life. It just helps me over the rough patches, is all.