Alright, chapter dos up now. (: Two in one day, I think yes. Kickin' off purty good. Point of view switch-eroo. Let's do this. Enjoy.

I lead a simple life. It ain't that hard. I get out of bed at eight in the morning. I drink a cup of coffee, or soda, depending on which we currently have in stock, then go to work at a warehouse for a few hours, moving shit around. Then I come home and talk with my girlfriend and take care of her kid for a while so she can get a bit of rest.

The messed up part of my life is over for the most part.

My dad died three years ago, and my mother left me with him so far back that I can't even recall a single feature of her face. Not even the tiniest blur of her image remains in my mind. The only mental picture I can come up with is that she looked something like me. At least, that's what Francis told me.

He and Krug remember her well, and I thought Sadie had an idea of her, too. But I wasn't sure. My mother was somewhat of an off-limit topic.

I remember once when Francis brought her up in conversation.

I had been being yelled at for fucking up a mission, which was to rob a small gas station. Yes, we got away with the money, but I almost cost us our freedom, which, at the time, was really all that we had. That, and a price on our heads. Anyhow, we managed to escape unscathed and we returned to our shabby apartment building in once piece.

Francis had been short on patience the past few days, and having such a close call with the cops because of me really pushed him over the edge. He was furious.

"You fuckin' little brat," he snarled, shoving me against the wall roughly.

I kept my eyes down and didn't dare speak up or try to dodge his anger. Francis had quite a mean streak. When he got pissed, he took it out on me, and there was no way for me to escape. This I learned from experience. As short and thin as Francis was, he never dared try anything like this on Krug, because he knew he'd get his ass kicked. Nor did he ever try and pick on Sadie, for she had a nasty set of claws on her, and she wasn't afraid to use them. Also, she fought dirty, and Francis didn't like that. So, with those two crossed out, that left me first on the list. He was just a bully, and he knew he could growl at me all he wanted and that I would never try and fight back. Being the weakest of the pack really had its disadvantages.

"Goddamn! Do you want us to get caught? Huh? Do you? Fucker!" He slugged me hard on the arm and I winced. That would be a bruise alright. "Why do you fucking hesitate every time we tell you do something? Dumb shit!" He grabbed a fist full of my hair and forced me to meet his gaze. His green eyes glittered dangerously. A tense moment passed between us, where I was just stuck staring at him, and he said nothing, just studied me. "Tch, you got your mother's fucking eyes. And you're a damn pansy, just like she was."

That was all he'd had to say.

In an instant, Francis was no longer pinning me against the wall. I continued to cringe there, though, because now my father was taking things into his hands. The only thing worse than being picked on by a pissed off Francis was seeing my dad pissed off. When he was mad, everyone was affected, didn't matter who you were. If you annoyed him even the slightest when he was angry, you might end up with a knife halfway down your throat, lodged in your windpipe.

"Don't you fucking talk about her!" Krug shouted as he yanked his brother away from me. He threw him to the floor, and for a moment, I actually felt pity for my uncle. I saw the spiteful look in Francis' green eyes die out and become replaced with fear. He didn't stand a chance against my father, and he knew it. If there was anything I had in common with Francis and Sadie, it was that we all feared Krug.

"Krug, hey, I-I didn't mea-"Francis started, only to be cut off when my father kicked him hard in the ribs. He yelped loudly and turned onto his side, curling up instinctively and defensively.

"Do not ever talk about her," my father roared, his rage nearly peaked as he glared down at the younger man curled up on the floor in pain. With that, Krug walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him, apparently too angry to remain in the same room as us any longer.

Sadie and I shared a glance for a split second. We shared thoughts as well, 'thank God that wasn't us.'

She turned and rushed to Francis, kneeling down beside him. "God, Francis, are you oaky?" Was Sadie actually showing concern for someone? How unusual.

Francis' breath was shallow and he whined like a hurt puppy for a week after the attack. I never saw the bruise on his ribs, but I didn't have to in order to know that it was very much there, and probably very much black and purple.

That was why I never asked about my mother, that was why I never learned much about her and still don't know much about her. And now that Krug, Francis, and Sadie are all gone… I'm left at a dead end with my mother. I will forever wonder what happened to her and whether or not I really look much like her.

Without those three around all the time, I was finally living without fear. Living a life of fearless freedom felt so good, too. I had a girlfriend, a job, and kid…sort of. He really wasn't mine, but…you know.

Speaking of said girlfriend, I wondered what it was she needed me home for. Probably just another panic attack. Those weren't uncommon for her, and who could blame her after what my father and his friends had put her through? To this day, I still carry so much guilt about the entire thing.

If only I hadn't…

No. I can't let myself think about that. I shook my head as I pulled up into the parking space near our apartment building, slamming the car door behind me and locking it.

I headed up the steps and stopped at the red door with chipped paint. I fumbled with the keys, having to search for a moment for the right key that fit into the lock. As I was jamming the key into the door knob, I heard something very distinct.

Ben's crying.

I jiggled the door knob and pushed the old door open. Stepping inside, I found Ben in his seat by the counter, crying harshly, bits of some kind of food strewn about his tray. "Ben, hey there, big boy. What's the matter?" I set my keys down on the counter top and lifted him from his chair. I rubbed the back of his head in attempt to console him. His hair was so soft and blonde, just like Mari's. Mari. "Ben, where's mommy?" I asked the child, tilting my head to look at him. I wiped a few tears from his cheek with one thumb. He didn't quite look sad. More like…afraid.

"Mari?" I called out, hoping that she would answer and walk into the kitchen, smiling and happy, or at least with some concern as to why her child was bawling his eyes out.

"Mari!" I called out again, silencing after to wait for a response. Finally, irritated that she wouldn't answer me, I set the child down on the kitchen tile and turned to him. "You stay right here, okay? I'll be back in a moment."

I walked towards mine and Mari's room. The door was shut, so I wondered if that's where she was residing. Perhaps she was in the bathroom, which would explain everything and give me great relief. But deep down, I don't think I ever really convinced myself that to be true, as much as I wanted it to be, it just wasn't. Slowly, I reached for the door knob. Pulling my hand back at the last second, I decided to knock softly first, to let her know I was about to enter.

"Mari?" I asked quietly. Hearing nothing, I went on to open the door, pushing it back away from myself. "Are you in here?" I switched the light on that was next to the door, and froze when I saw her.

She was half dressed, in only black bra and white underwear, crouching on the bed, staring at me with narrowed eyes. "Justin!" she hissed.

"Yes, it's me. Mari, what the hell are you doing? Ben was crying and you weren't paying attention to him?" I asked, demanding an explanation to her poor parenting. She'd gone off her nut. It was painfully obvious. I'd come home to her panic attacks before, to her being paralyzed in fear, but never to…this insanity.

"I want that abomination out of my house!" she screamed.

"What?" I asked with growing concern and stress. "You don't mean Ben…"

"I mean exactly him. Get that fucking thing out of here! That is not my son!" she screeched like a harpy.

"What are you talking about? Of course he's your son!" I explained, trying to keep my voice fairly low.

"Get it out, get it out, get it out!" she cried, then leaped up from the bed in a flash of swift movement and darted to the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. She slammed the door and I could hear the click of the lock on the other side.

Okay. So what the fuck am I supposed to do with my crazy girlfriend?

Uh, hello, madhouse? Yeah, I've got a new patient for you.

Awwwww, yeahhhh. This chapter was longer than the first. XD Dang, it's hard to write long chapters. Well, it is not 2am, and I have to work in six hours. Guess I should get to bed, eh? Nawh.

-breaks into Krokus song- Stayed awake alll NNIIIIIIIIIIIGHHHTT! BOOM. Yea. Alright. Later, readers. :P Spare a review for a newb?

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