Author's note: Forget what I said about "Unopen Arms" being the last installment. I got a great idea for yet another sequel. Also, a shout-out goes to Data Girl 3 for her story "The Story Never Ends," which helped inspire most of "Mommie's Revenge." A shout-out also goes to Diva Actress, for being the ONLY person at the time this was written to have reviewed chapter one! Where have you guys been?!

Roger sat uncomfortably in the church, listening to friend after friend of his mother's drone one. He'd received the notice of the memorial the day after Marina's birth, about a month ago, and had decided to go and pay his last respects to Charlene. Mimi had opted to stay home with Marina, and Roger had to agree that the service was no place for a baby. Now he was slightly wishing he'd stayed home.

Finally, the service came to him. The preacher nodded at him. "Now, Charlene's son, Roger, would like to say a few words in Charlene's memory."

Roger stood. "I…um…well…okay, look, I can't do this. I've been sitting here all afternoon, listening to you all say what a wonderful person she was, what a wonderful mother, oh isn't Roger such a lucky son and all the other things you've been saying. Well, you're all lying through your teeth. She wasn't a wonderful mother. She was a horrible mother. She didn't know how to be a mother. She was an alcoholic, drug-addicted, violent person with no self-respect. She was abusive and vindictive, and half the time, I couldn't stand her!"

Roger was met with a stunned silence. Several of his mothers friends gasped, and he heard one clearly say, "Well, I never."

Roger cleared his throat. "I wasn't done yet, Mrs. Mylondel. I know, you're all thinking what a horrible, ungrateful son I am, and if I were in your shoes, I'd think the same thing. You didn't know her like I did, though. She wasn't a nice person, and living with her was pretty much…" He looked at the preacher. "Forgive the language, but living with her was pretty much hell on earth. But she was my mother, and I did love her. Even while she was beating me, and abusing me, and pretty much ruining my life, I loved her, because I didn't know what else to do. Just like that Pat Benetar song-many of you won't know Pat Benetar, but it's a reference I know well-just like her song 'Hell is for Children,' where she makes a comment about how abused children only know how to love their parents. It's the same thing. I can't hate her. I just can't." He sighed, looking down at his feet. "Mom, I honestly wish you could be here to accept this, but you can't. And it's my fault. Mom, I forgive you. After all these years, I finally forgive you." He looked around. "That's all I have to say. Thank you." He stepped down.

A shocked silence ensued. Roger started back to his seat, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked up and drew a sharp intake of breath, looking into his father's face for the first time in seven years. The preacher smiled. "And now, Charlene's one-time husband and Roger's father, Jeremiah Davis, will say a few words."

Jeremiah nodded. "My son is absolutely right. Quite frankly, Charlene was a bitch. But if we cannot forgive her for her sins, then how can the Lord?" He smiled at Roger, who rolled his eyes and walked out.

Jeremiah followed. "Roger, can we talk?"

Roger shook his head. "There's nothing to talk about. I told you before; I want nothing to do with you."

"It's been seven years, Roger. I thought…"

"You thought wrong. You are not my father. Yes, you may have been Charlene's husband, but a one-night stand that happened to result in my birth makes you the sperm donor, not my father. You aren't part of my family. You aren't even a part of my life. Charlene may have been an abusive bitch, but at least she was usually there for me. Besides, I still hold you responsible for Saylinda's death."

"Roger…"

"No, I don't want to hear it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go home and look after my daughter so Mimi can get to work." Roger turned to leave, but his father caught his arm. "Dammit, I will not be ignored by my own son!"

"I am not your son!" Roger wrenched his arm free. "I will never be your son. I don't even know you!" He started walking away.

Jeremiah followed. "Roger. At least let me give you a ride home."

Roger's fist clenched, and he glared. "I won't say it again. Fuck. Off." He stormed off, ignoring his father, and headed for the Loft.