A/N: No beta, all edited by me :)


*Babette's View*

Chapter Two – Part One


At seven in the morning, with roughly only five hours of sleep total from the night before, I groggily woke. My numb right arm was pinned to the mattress by something heavy and my left side was weighed down. Opening my eyes along with a yawn, I looked to my left to see Barni snuggled into my chest, his head settled against my collarbone. To my right was Bebe, one of her arms above her head and a soft breath against my ear every time she exhaled.

I gently ruffled Barni's hair with my only free hand. He sighed and flipped himself over facing away from me. I lifted my arm and raised it to skim over the darkened bruise on the right side of Bebe's face. My eyes caught sight of the same coloring painted across two of the knuckles on my right hand near Bebe's head. I frowned.

Just seeing the injuries made me furious all over again. It made me want to rush over to the Stoddard household to tell Ricky's aunt. He would have sustained so much more damage than I ever could have dealt out if I had called and woken her in the middle of the night. She would have gone ape-shit. I wonder what excuse he came up with when he went home with blood gushing like the Niagara Falls out of his nose.

Braxton's crib shifted. The creaking of the wood was loud in the morning silence. I lifted onto one elbow, seeing as my right arm was still captured under Bebe's deadweight, and looked to the corner of the room. The toddler was on his feet with his hands tightly gripping the top bar of the crib. His dark eyes were pointed in my direction. As soon as he saw that I was awake, he gave a toothy smile and bounced up and down. Cooing, he reached one of his tiny hands out towards me.

It was only after I had untangled myself from the different body parts of my siblings that I was able to release him from his prison. I settled him against my chest and nuzzled his forehead with my nose. I inhaled deeply. I loved Braxton's baby scent. I was going to be severely disappointed when it finally decided to go away as he got older. Maybe I could convince him to continue bathing with baby shampoo for the rest of his life. I leaned back down into the crib to pick up his pale blue blanket. Leaving the room with him in my arms, I shut the door behind us.

"How's my big man this morning?"

Braxton gurgled and pat my cheek.

"That good, huh? Wish my morning started as good as yours." I ran a hand through his fine hair. "I was woken up in the middle of the night to go rescue Sissy from her evil boy toy."

Braxton yanked on my hair. He giggled while I winced. I paused at the opening that lead into the living room and took a quick glance at the small, somewhat cluttered space. The living room and kitchen were one room. Half of it was gray linoleum while the other was beige carpet. The only thing to sit on other than the floor was a beat up brown suede couch – the one that I stumbled into the night before – pushed up against the back of the counter's half wall that lead into the kitchen. I had found it at a garage sale a year ago and it was still in pretty good condition after a good cleaning. I had bought it for the low price of a hundred and fifty dollars.

There wasn't much more to say about the house we lived in. It's small, I can tell you that. The large-ish front room, the two small bedrooms shared two people each. There was also one small, tiny bathroom. It really shouldn't have even been considered a bathroom at all. It had a toilet, a sink, and a shower stall stuffed into the small space. I've always assumed that when they were putting up the frame and structure of the building, it was originally supposed to be a walk in closet or pantry. But in their haste to get the house on the market, they forgot to build a room for the bathroom. The closet was no longer a closet and instead became the smallest bathroom known to mankind.

Scanning the meager belonging scattered across the room, I really wouldn't have it any other way. The only thing I wish I could change was for there to be a bathtub in the house. I would have loved for Barni and Braxton to have been able to take baths every once in a while, instead of me fumbling to not get wet in the stall while I bathed Braxton because our kitchen sink wasn't big enough. It was either that, or more closet space for all the supplies taking up the wobbly, black, fold-up table beside the TV.

My grandmother from my mom's side of the family had gotten me interested in basket weaving when I was ten. During one of her monthly visits long before she died she had brought along one of the baskets she had been in the middle of weaving. I fell in love with how nimbly her old, wrinkly fingers moved against the flat oval reed that was turning into the perfect basket. So, I became a basket weaver in my spare time. After years of practice and many failed attempts, they were finally good enough to be sold to the local consignment shop when I was in need for extra cash. Mainly though, I was making them for someone who had specifically ordered one. Like Emily Young did for her mother's upcoming birthday.

On most days, I worked at Vinny's Diner – I know, how original, having the restaurant named after its owner, Vince – but during nights, I created works of art. The closet in my room was full of the different types of materials and tools needed for such projects. All of my clothes had been put into flat Tupperware boxes and slid under my bed to get them out of the way.

I got myself and Braxton fed, showered, redressed – and diapered – and then sat down on the floor in front of the TV. We watched an episode or two of some old cartoons that were on early this morning before I had to wake our siblings up for the day. Braxton happily pointed at the screen with one hand, his giggles smothered due to the other hand being stuffed in his mouth.

Just after eight, I heard a door down the hall open. Soft footsteps against the carpet led them into the bathroom and a door closed. The flushing of a toilet was heard, the sink running, and then the door reopened. I looked over my shoulder to see Bebe yawning widely into her hand as she stood in the hallway opening.

"Hey, sis."

She hummed a hello, moving to scratch her stomach under her night shirt. "Do you need in the bathroom? I'm gonna get a quick shower before we have to head out."

I shook my head.

She started back down the hall. Before she could get too far, I hastily called out, "Is Barni up?"

"Yeah."

"Make sure he uses the bathroom before you get in there. I don't want another incident like last time."

She didn't say anything, but I did hear the bathroom door shut.

"Bebe? Did you hear me?"

I sighed when she ignored me. Leaving Braxton occupied with the TV and a couple of his toys, I hurried down the short hall.

Knocking on the bathroom door, I told her, "You better not start that shower, Bebe Marie. Let Barni in there before you get in."

She groaned from the other side of the door. "He'll be fine! If you have to, have him go outside and find a tree to pee on. I'm already naked anyways."

The squeak of the knob to the shower being turned on was muffled through the wood and the shower started. I moaned in frustration, moving the few feet to my open bedroom doorway. Barnibee lay sprawled across my bed, his limbs stretched out as far as they could go. If he had been bigger he would've taken up most of the bed. Because of his small size for his age, he barely took up half of it. His eyes were comically squeezed shut tightly. He still hadn't quite mastered the art of pretend sleeping.

I crawled in next to him and moved aside a few of the stray limbs so I could lay down. Adjusting my head to a more comfortable position, I studied him. His eyes were still scrunched closed, his mouth taut with tension. He was trying hard not to smile. His face was elf-like, his chin and ears more pointed than rounded. His skin tone was a dark tan, barely even considered russet like our mother's was.

Reaching out a finger, I ran it down his nose and tapped the end of it. His golden brown eyes popped open and he grinned. He was missing one of his front teeth. Seeing it made me smile widely back at him. He flipped over onto his side to fully face me and scooted close.

"Have any good dreams, Barnes?" I whispered.

Barni nodded and said just as quietly, "I dreamed I had wings and was flying. You were there, and so was Bebe and Braxton."

"Did all of us have wings?"

He nodded once more. "Yeah, but Braxton's weren't full developed yet. Like a baby bird. You had to carry him."

I brushed a few strands of hair from his face before pulling my arm back into my body. "And what kind of wings did we have? Was it birds'?"

I asked because he loved birds. Along with the posters up on his walls, he had several thick books on bird species. There was one in just about every room of the house. Two were from the library, the rest were bought at thrift stores and yard sales. Whenever he had the chance, when either Bebe or I could keep an eye on him, he was always outside, his eyes searching the trees. He could spend hours waiting for a specific bird to land on the outskirts of the woods behind the house.

"Bebe had the wings of a butterfly."

"Oh, I bet she'll love that when she hears it. You know how much she loves insects."

Bebe had a fear of anything bug related. From gnats to moths, she froze up whenever she saw one. Other than the ants that occasionally escaped from Barni's ant farm, she was scared of everything else. She was even more terrified of spiders. I constantly liked to remind and tease her about the time she freaked about the Daddy Long Legs that was supposedly 'stalking' her.

Barni giggled. "Chewy had Hummingbird wings."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's 'cause he's so little. But when he grows up, he's gonna be fast and strong."

Braxton's shrieks of laughter drifted into the room through the open doorway. We could hear Bugs Bunny's voice coming from the living room.

"What about you and me?"

"I had Magpie wings and you had angel wings. They were real pretty, Babsy."

"Angel, huh?'

"Uh-huh." He confirmed his answer with an exaggerated nod.

"Do I still get my angel wings if I do this?" I reached out and firmly poked his stomach. He jerked back with a squeal.

It was well-known within the family that all of our relatives were ridiculously ticklish. When my cousin Kim and I were nine and six, I had made her pee her pants just from holding her down and running my hands along her sides until she loudly protested she was going to pee herself. Barni was no exception to the tickling.

"Noooo, Baaaabs!"

Sitting up, I poked him a few more times. He kicked his feet out and scrambled away from me. He went too far and fell off the side of the bed. His cackling let me know that he was alright. I leaned over the edge of the mattress and looked down at him, chuckling.

"You good?"

He caught his breath and gave me a thumbs up. "I just really need to pee now."

"Go knock on the bathroom door and see if your sister is done yet. If not, turn the hot water in the kitchen on. That'll get her out pretty quick."

With a mischievous grin, he shot to his feet and scurried down the hall. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I heard him bang on the bathroom door several times. Bebe screamed that she would, "Be out in a minute, you little shit!"

Shaking my head in amusement, I left the room just as Bebe opened the bathroom door in only a towel and her hair still dripping. Barni slipped by and shoved her out of the way so that he could shut the door. Scowling at me, my sister shuffled towards me. The tattoo trail or stars falling down from her shoulder to under the towel on the right side of her chest stood out on her pale skin.

She pushed past me and entered my room.

"I'm borrowing your clothes," she spat.

There was no argument as she slammed the door shut. I mocked her and rolled my eyes. Perfectly good clothing in her bedroom and she has to wear mine to subtly get back at me. The Noland house was insanity in the mornings.


We were running late. Bebe couldn't find her shoes from the night before, Barnibee managed to slam his fingers in one of the cupboard doors while looking for breakfast, Braxton needed his diaper changed one last time, and I couldn't remember where I had put Emily Young's gift.

"Shit," I muttered. My closet had been torn apart, materials spread out all over the floor and my bed. "Where in the hell did I put it?"

"Are you sure you stuck it in there, Babs?" Bebe asked.

I knelt, rifling through the completed baskets at the bottom of the closet. I glanced over at her leaning against the door frame with Braxton on her hip.

"I thought I did."

She bounced the toddler and said, "You didn't put it in the trunk of your car after you finished it like you did with Mr. Blake's, did you?"

A vague memory of me carefully placing the basket between an assortment of school books, diapers, clothing, and the odd toy flounced into my head. It was put in there so I wouldn't forget it when the time came to deliver it. My frustration grew as it hit me. "Damn it!"

Bebe smirked. I stood up and rushed from the room. She followed along behind me, stooping to pick up the worn diaper bag at the end of the couch. "You need to start sticking Post-it notes to your forehead to remind yourself of these things."

I tossed her a dirty hand gesture over my shoulder and shouted, "Let's go, Barnibee!"

Barni looked up from finishing putting on a Transformers Band-Aid around his wounded finger. Really, there wasn't anything wrong with it. There was no blood or bruising, but how could I deny the adorable teary-eyed look he had given me.

"Do we really have to go to mom's today?"

"Yes," I huffed. I scrambled around the living room to gather my keys and cell phone. "I've got some business stuff to do this morning. And then I have to get some grocery shopping done or we won't be eating dinner tonight. It's her only time with you and Braxton this month, remember? Don't worry, I'll be by mom's to pick you up a few hours after I've dropped you off. It won't take me long."

Barni frowned, but, nonetheless, he threw away the wrapper to his Band-Aid and exit the kitchen.

"Let's go, kidlings. We gotta hustle 'cause I need to be to Miss Emily's by ten-thirty."

According to the clock on the wall, which was three minutes fast, it was already fifty minutes past nine.

Bebe pulled the front door open, still barefoot, and Barni and I filed out after her. I locked the front door behind me and let the screen door slam shut. We hoofed it down the gravel driveway to the car. My sister walked like the rocks didn't bother her. We'd all done it at some point before several times in the past. I squinted my eyes through the sunlight and looked at the yard surrounding my house for the first time that morning.

There were only three other houses nearby; one next door and the other two sat just across the street. The next bundle of houses was less than a half a mile away in the direction of La Push. Me and the family living in the house next door shared a front and backyard because the buildings were so close together and we had no fence. So, I wasn't surprised to see Embry Call spread-eagle in the grass nearby with an arm thrown over his eyes.

I had awkwardly met Ms. Call and her son when I had first moved in, back right before I was taking care of the kids full time. The mother and I didn't interact much except to say the occasional hello or to ask for an extra cup of sugar. That was the extent of my relationship with her. Embry, although shy at first, was much more friendly. He sometimes brought over an old action figure he had found under his bed for Barni. He'd even found a few discount Disney movies for Braxton a few times when he went into Port Angeles.

He was a nice kid. He'd gone through some changes a few years ago, though, that made me wonder about whether he was doing drugs or not. After actually getting to know him more, I learned that he was an exceptional person. When I grew comfortable enough for him to be around the kids, I'd convinced him to spend the night on my couch after I'd found him trying to sleep outside. His excuse was that his mother was a bit of a tart. He said that with love. I then forced him – actually, there was no force at all. All it took was the word 'food' to get him moving – to eat dinner with us. It went well. He ate all of what was supposed to be our leftovers. I think I made him feel bad after casually mentioning that that had been our meals for the next day. He tried to avoid eating our food at all costs after that. Not that it actually worked.

For some reason he could never remember my name. It was like the little people in his brain never filed the paperwork in the filing cabinet labeled 'save'. Every time I saw him he called me something different. For the last two weeks it had been Mamacita, Babylon, Brandy and Mumsy. I had no problem with it. Though, Bebe did. She had a major crush on him and was jealous that I was given numerous nicknames by him. Barni exploited this information whenever the older boy was around to embarrass her.

"Rough night, Embry?"

He gave a low groan.

"I'll take that as a yes," I chuckled.

Bebe looked over at the sound of his name and her eyes widened exponentially. He was shirtless after all. She almost tossed Braxton into his car seat and then shoved Barni through the small space to the seat on the other side before he could say anything. Watching her grow flustered as she stood there made me choke back laughter. Letting the diaper bag drop to the ground, she ruffled her chin length brown hair. As soon as it was mussed, she reached a hand down the top of her shirt to straighten her boobs and lift them up. Her fingers lightly ran over the makeup covering her bruised face and swiped over her eyebrows. All the while her gaze was glued to the man meat half asleep on the lawn.

I rolled my eyes with a grin and moved towards her. "Get in the car, Bebe."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Embry's body stiffen in the damp grass.

"Bu-"

I opened the door to the driver's side. "I don't care, get in. We need to go."

I pushed her through the doorway and she climbed over the center console into the passenger's seat. Picking up the diaper bag, I squished it onto the floor between my seat and Braxton's car seat. I then shut the back door and turned back to Embry.

"See you later, Em."

He had sat up, his arms by his sides and his mouth gaping in disbelief. I could have sworn I heard him mutter, "I thought she looked familiar," before I slid into my seat and closed the door. Embry waved slowly at us.

"Buckle your brothers up, Babes, I might be breaking a couple of laws to get to mom's house."

After leaning into the backseat to buckled Braxton up and making sure Barni was secured under his seat belt, she swiveled back around and buckled herself in. The second we hit pavement she put her feet up onto the dashboard. Her vibrant lime green polished toenails were bright against the dark interior of the car. I didn't bother asking her to put them down. They'd only be back up five minutes later.

Scanning the empty road in front of the car, I peeked over at her. "So..."

The night before as I was putting her to bed I had told her that her and Ricky were over and that she wasn't to go anywhere near him ever again. She had readily agreed that he was bad for her health. And then promptly burst into another round of tears. Any thought of asking the reason why she had gone to a party instead of the movies like she had told me was immediately put on a back burner. Until now.

She fidgeted with the dark blue long-sleeved shirt she had chosen from my minimal wardrobe. She gave me a sidelong glance and bit at her fingernails.

"Are you going to tell me what happened last night?"

"You know what happened last night."

"I know what happened at the party. I want to know what happened to make you go to the party in the first place. I'm not stupid, Bebe. I've seen how down you've been the last few days since you last got home from mom's house."

Bebe began chewing at her lips.

I fumbled to find a packet of spearmint gum to give to her. I ran my tongue over the raised skin around my lips. Lip chewing was a sore spot for me and I tried to keep my siblings from doing it by always having gum around. I finally found a package in the glove compartment and pulled out a stick to give to her. She accepted it without complaint, unwrapped it, and folded it with her tongue as she shoved it in her mouth.

My sister pulled her sleeves down over her hands. "Do you remember me telling you about applying for that job at that bookstore in Forks?"

"Yeah, but you told me they'd have to get back to you because they already had several other applicants."

"Uh-huh, well, somehow mom found out."

My shoulders dropped and I grumbled, "Oh, no."

Bebe slumped down further into the seat. "Oh, yes. We got into this huge argument. You know mom wouldn't have told you this, but the bank has been calling about the house. I figured that I should get a job to help out."

"Bebe, you know you don't have t-"

"Yeah, Babs, I do," she interrupted. "All that money from when grandpa Joe died went straight to mom and it's almost gone. You can't be the only one bringing in the money anymore. The tips you get and the meager cash you make off of your basketry isn't going to keep two houses afloat much longer. Mom wouldn't get a job to save her life, you know this. You need help."

Frowning, I silently, and reluctantly, agreed with her logic. I didn't make much with the tips at the diner and I always charged less than I should when delivering a basket I had weaved. I always felt bad for charging what they were actually worth when the customers were just as bad off as we were.

"What happened with mom, Bebe?"

She sighed. "She spieled all this shit about everyone leaving her and how she needs me at home to take care of her."

I slowed the car as we entered the lowest of the town's speed limits. We were passing the gas station before I spoke again. "You don't need to take care of mom. I've been doing it my whole life. Catering to her will only make her want more than what you can give. Believe me, I know."

Bebe shrugged. She blew a quick bubble and popped it loudly. "I don't care what she thinks; I need this job. She's just pissed because I won't be there to drive her to buy her booze since she got her license revoked. Besides, mom's got a new boyfriend. I need the money just to buy food because he eats it all when I'm not there. He's got a serious case of the munchies most of the time."

I scoffed, knowing the exact reason for the food intake. "That's just great."

She pulled her feet off the dashboard and turned in the seat to look at me. One of her legs was pulled up and she adjusted the seat belt to make it work. "I don't see why I can't just make the move into your house permanent. I mean, I spend most of my time there anyways. And Barni and Braxton do for the most part. Why can't I?"

Coming up to one of the two stop lights in La Push, it turned red and I pressed on the brakes. I turned to her. "You know why, Bebe. After I made that threat about calling the police on her last August I'm only allowed to have the boys if I continue to give her just about half of what I make to pay for bills. And only if you stay there at least three times a week to help out around the house. As soon as I start making more then I can try and work something out with her so that you can live with me. But until then, you have to tough it out. Remember, I lasted eighteen years there. You only have one more to go and then she can't control you anymore and you can get the hell out of there. You're a lot stronger and older than the boys. You can make it, they can't."

I pat Bebe's leg and she went silent, her teeth nibbling on her fingernails again. I glanced in the rear view mirror and flipped down the little baby mirror attached to the bottom and looked behind me. Braxton was murmuring to himself, his feet kicking against the car seat. My eyes flickered to look at Barni. He was focused on the sky above the buildings outside the window. As if feeling my gaze, his head turned and he stared back through the mirror. The light turned green and I let off the brakes and onto the gas.

"Mom's house sucks major ass."

Bebe broke into peals of laughter. I spun around – luckily there wasn't anyone in the opposite lane as the car jerked to the side – to scowl at my younger brother.

"Barnibee Lee!"

"What? It's true and you know it."

"Barni, mom loves yo-"

"No, she doesn't. She doesn't love me or Braxton. I just remind her of dad and Chewy reminds her of the condom that broke with some random man skank."

My sister started choking on her chortles.

"It's not funny, Bebe!" I glared at her and then looked back at Barni. "Where in the hell did you hear that? Was it mom?"

Barnibee lowered his head and picked at the fabric on the passenger's seat in front of him. "I heard Bebe telling one of her friends over the phone."

Glowering at my sister, she stopped choking as I grunted, "You are so dead."

"It's okay, Babs. She called herself the anti-Christ and you the effed up first born."

Bebe burst into laughter once more. "I completely forgot about that!"

I leaned my elbow against the door and cradled my forehead as I shook my head. "Now I'm really going to kill you..."

She slapped her knees and her face turned red from lack of oxygen.

I rolled my eyes in irritation and then froze in thought. "Barnibee, did she actually say 'effed up', or was it 'fucked up'?"

My sister's merriment came to an end. I narrowed my eyes at her. Just as we turned into our mother's driveway, Barnibee answered.

"The second one. I just didn't want to hurt your delicate ears by repeating an explicit swear word."

Bebe snorted and I chuckled in disbelief while parking the car. "If you ever say that word, Barni, you won't get ice cream for a month."

His eyes widened to the size of tennis balls. "I haven't. I won't."

Giving Bebe a sideways glance, she was smart enough to not even let the hint of a smirk appear. "And you, you need to stop staying stuff like that around the boys. Seriously, Braxton is going to start repeating the words we say soon. Do you really want him shouting the F word in a public place? Wait," I held up a hand when she went to voice her opinion. "You'd most likely just encourage more of it."

"It's not like you're a model citizen either, Babsy," Bebe said, unbuckling her seat belt. "You just said fuck right in front of them."

"Bebe! So did you. Shut up!"

Both her and Barni started giggling at my flustered hand movements. Braxton, seeing the two laugh, rapidly began babbling along with a wide smile.

"Oh, come on, Babs." Bebe twisted to look at the toddler. "With the language he hears from mom, I wouldn't be surprised if his first full sentences have something to do with anal, bestiality, or how many orgasms he can get in one sitting from a hooker."

I groaned into my hands.

"What's besti-"

"Nothing, Barni! Put it out of your mind."

Bebe grinned, her fingers fumbling with the door handle. Before then, none of us had bothered to make a move to get out of the car. I hadn't even shut off the engine. I wasn't planning on going inside with them. The last time I'd come to visit my mother she had thrown a punch at me. Since then, I had just given Bebe the envelope with the amount of money we had agreed on to give to our mother.

I glanced at the clock on the stereo and saw that it was already ten minutes after ten.

The familiar sound of glass breaking behind the thin walls of the two story home made me lean over Bebe and pull her leg back into the car before closing the door.

I rubbed my forehead. "Let me go check it out before you take the kids in there. If it's bad you're not staying here. Don't turn the car off. I won't be long."

I got out of the car and stifled a low gasp as something shattered the front living room window. That was going to be expensive to have fixed. There were two voices shrewdly screaming at each other inside the house. Leaning back down to see my sister, I said, "Bebe, get in my seat and pull the car away from the house. I don't want you guys getting hit with anything in case this gets really ugly. And lock the doors."

My sister scrambled behind the steering wheel as I shut the door. I could hear the car being put into reverse and then the tires rolling down to the end of the driveway. It was put into park as I reached the front door.

My palms started to sweat. I was worried over what I was going to find inside. Flashbacks from when I was a child kept me from immediately reaching for the doorknob. The yelling hadn't decreased, nor had it increased. This was a good sign. Silence was sometimes just as bad as shouting.

I took a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart. Maybe I should just get back in the car and not even bother checking on my mother. It's not like she'd acted at all maternal to me when I was younger. There was a reason for the scars around my lips. She didn't feed me much, and I often found chewing on my lips more satisfying than eating whatever I could off the floor. She only started cooking me meals when my first grade teacher called child services on my parents. My stomach might have been fuller, but the physical and emotional scars from the experience stayed with me for life.

"Grow some balls, Babette," I muttered to myself. "Get in there and help your mother before this guy kills her."

I rolled my shoulders to loosen them and turned the doorknob. I pushed at the door with a little difficulty. A large, heavy object had been thrown in front of it. Shoving with all my strength, I managed to make an opening just big enough to slip my body through. I took in all the damage. The couch was what had been pushed against the door. It was tipped over onto its back. The TV had been tossed aside. The screen had a crack in it that originated from the bottom right corner and spider-webbed out. Let's just say that the rest of the living room was such a mess that I couldn't even begin to describe what was whole and what was shattered into a thousand pieces.

The screaming came from upstairs now. They must have moved from the time they had thrown whatever through the window to when I had psyched myself up to come inside. I tread into the mess, the sound of glass crunching under my shoes with every step. Just as I reached the bottom of the stairs, a male form hit the wall at the top. He yelled nonsense back into what I knew to be my mother's bedroom.

Seconds later he was being shoved down the stairs to land in an awkward heap at my feet. I take back what I said. I needed to get in here and help before my mother killed him.

"Holy fuck, woman!" He bellowed from the floor. "All I did was ask you to make me a sandwich!"

My mother – the woman who deemed it necessary for me to know how to make all of her alcoholic beverages by the age of seven – shrieked down the stairwell, "Make your own goddamn sandwich! I'm not your fuckin' housekeeper."

She stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door without even sparing her daughter a glance. Wow, I'm so happy to be here to make sure she was okay.

Heavy breathing made me look down. The man was still sprawled out on the floor at my feet. I lifted a foot and nudged his shoulder. He started, staring up at me with dark eyes as if I were an alien life form with a penis protruding from my forehead. He must have recognized me from the photos lining the hallway at the top of the stairs. The frames were cracked and uneven, but the pictures were still good quality. The man blew out a hefty breath.

"Bitch is crazy."

I slowly nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know. I would be getting out alive right about now before something happened to change that if I were you. I have helped her bury a body in the backyard, you know."

He blankly blinked up at me. I could tell he was on something. His pupils were dilated and his eyes wide.

"Nah, I think I'll be okay... I'm just gonna go make my own sandwich."

I shook my head. Of course, this was how all of them were. Quick to get a hit in on my mother and yet still want to be living with her after she had either stabbed them or thrown them down the stairs. I'd come across the same scene many times over the years. I'm still astonished none of them had ever called the cops on her. Her vagina must spew gold to get them to stay.

I gagged. I really shouldn't be thinking things like that if I wanted to keep my meager breakfast where it belonged.

Inspecting the disaster in the living room, there was no way I was letting my siblings stay here for the day. I wouldn't take the chance, not with the mood my mother was currently in. Who knew if she would turn on one of her youngest children. I hurried up the steps and reached for my mother's bedroom door. Instead of knocking, knowing she would just curse at me, I pushed the door open and entered the room.

The room was like a shrine to my deceased father, Justin Noland. Everything he had touched the day he commit suicide eight years ago was exactly there he had left it. His work boots were still at the end of the bed. One of his shirts lay on the floor beside the hamper from where he'd missed after tossing it. Even his cologne was still on top of the dresser, the cap off and set next to it. My father wasn't around much when I was a kid, so it was a little disconcerting to see my mother still holding on to his memory so badly. And for so long. I feared her mental state wasn't all that it used to be.

Outside the bedroom my mother didn't like any reminders of my father. I liked to think that my mother loved her children, but Bebe, Barni and I were all his kids. It showed in our paler skin tone, brown hair, and golden eyes. We reminded her of her dead husband every second she looked at us. Braxton was the only child of hers that didn't belong to him, and she had no shame in shunning the toddler like she had with the rest of us just for that fact.

I prayed that one day she would get better. That she would get into rehab and start to live the life she had never reached out and taken. I knew it would never happen. I guess watching your husband stick a gun in his mouth and blow his brains out made a woman go even more crazy than she already was. I gave her a little leeway for that.

"Mom? Katrina?"

"What?" Her tone was grouchy.

I searched the room for her. The heavy curtains covering the windows made it difficult to see. I finally spotted her on the floor on the other side of the queen-sized bed. She lifted a bottle of Jack Daniel's and took a swig of the amber liquid.

She barely even looked in my direction. She didn't ask why I was here. She didn't wonder how I was doing; how my life was going without her. Usually she at least asked how cleaning shit up and serving people other than her was going for me.

Today she stayed silent.

"I don't think it's such a good idea for the kids to stay here for the visit today." I moved further into the room, stepping over the pair of men's jeans crumpled into a ball near the door.

"Why not?"

"Because there's glass all over the floor downstairs. Barni or Braxton could hurt themselves."

"...Your point?"

Irritation took hold in my stomach. It started to grow. "Mom, they're not coming into this house until you get it all cleaned up. Don't believe for a second that just because you don't care for their well-being that I also don't."

My mother completely ignored me. "Where's that slut sister of yours?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "She's been at my house. You know she only comes over on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays. Today's Saturday. She's out in the car."

Even though she didn't look it, I could tell she was pissed off. Her only tell was the hand holding the bottle of liquor gripped a little tighter. Her knuckles were turning white. I knew where this was headed. I needed to get out of there before she threw that bottle at me.

"Mom, just pick up the house. The kids can come over next Saturday when you've cleaned it up."

"No! You can't have them!" She leaned against the wall and struggled to slide herself up to her feet.

"Then stop throwing every breakable thing in the house at whatever has pissed you off! They could get badly injured-"

"You. Can't. Have. Them." She enunciated each word with a slur.

I slowly started retracing my steps backwards in the direction of the door. "Do you really want me to call child services? I'd gain custody of them all and you wouldn't get a single penny from me anymore. Do you really want to risk the money I give to you each month?"

She hesitated, the bottle in her hand slipped as her grip loosened. She tightened it just in time and didn't let gravity take it from her fingers. She gazed at me pitifully. "You promised you wouldn't."

"Yeah, well, if you'd stop spending all your money on alcohol, stopped trashing the house, and ended whoring yourself out than maybe I'll reconsider."

In her own fucked up way, she still loved her kids. She might not have liked us all that much but she still wanted to be in her kids' lives in some way. They were still a part of Justin Noland whether she liked it or not. If it were up to me she wouldn't ever get to see them. They had a better childhood right now than they ever would have had if they had continued to grow up around the mess that was our mother.

She hated me with a passion. She knew that at any second I could go to the cops and claim abuse for all the things she had done to me as a child. I could tell them that I was afraid of a repeat for my brothers and sister. I could gain custody of them and she wouldn't have been able to do a thing about it.

If that ever did happen, there would be no more cash flowing in her direction. She would be on her own and wouldn't survive a week without help.

Yeah, she fucking hated me.

"...No. You can't do that. What if they take them away from you? We'd never see them again. My babies would be gone."

"Well, at least they'll be getting the fuck away from you."

I determined it was a good time to leave the second she cocked her arm back and hurled the Jack Daniel's bottle at my head. It smashed into the wall adjacent to me as I ducked my head and dodged the throw.

I took off running down the stairs and into the living room. The man currently living with my mother was leaning against the wall that lead into the kitchen. In his hands was a large sandwich with all the fixings. He took a bite out of it as I landed at the bottom of the stairs. I could feel his lazy eyes following me as I rushed towards the front door.

My mother's footsteps were unsteady as she followed me down the stairs. By the time I slid back through the barely open door, she was tripping over the items littering the dirty carpet and crashing to the floor. I slammed the screen door in Katrina Noland's face.

Furious, she yelled something – nonsense I couldn't understand. I ignored her shouts and jogged down the driveway to the car. I peered through the windshield to see Bebe back in the passenger's seat and gaping like a fish. Her mouth continued to open and close and I grew closer. Barni had leaned forward in his seat and was looking over her shoulder. His face only slightly hinted at fear at the sight of his mother stumbling over her feet in the unmowed lawn and now throwing rocks at his sister.

I fumbled for the door handle, wincing as a large stone actually reached its target. Bebe lunged to unlock the door while I rubbed at my shoulder. I scrambled into the seat and slammed the door shut just as my mother reached the car. She flung herself into the door and pounded on the glass. I relocked the door before she could try and open it.

"Jesus, Babette! What the fuck did you do?" Bebe called out over the screams of the woman beating against the car.

Braxton started whimpering in the back seat.

I thanked whatever god there was that the car was still running, and that it hadn't stalled on me in more than a week. I smacked it into reverse and looked over my shoulder to see out the back window.

"I threatened her with child services and no money. Again. You're not living there anymore Bebe. Not with the condition the house is in and the way she acts. Why didn't you tell me it had gotten this bad?"

"That's it? Why the hell is she freaking out? You've threatened her a million times with the no cash thing." I noticed she didn't answer my question and that worried me.

"She's drunk, and most likely high, Bebe. Does she really need another reason?"

Both Barni and Bebe spun in their seats to look out the back window as I pulled away from the house. Our mother went back to throwing rocks, her aim uneven and landing everywhere but near the car. Until she had a moment of clarity, took a few good steps, and propelled a stone hard enough that it hit the back left taillight.

I didn't stop the car when I faintly heard the rattle of the hard plastic cracking and falling off. Bebe slowly turned back around, her eyebrows furrowed with worry. Other than Braxton's low whimpers, the silence in the car was deafening.

My sister tapped her fingers together, taking short glances at me before shooting her eyes away. My hands tightened around the steering wheel and I ground my teeth together. I just knew she was going to make some smart ass comment to make this moment even worse.

"So..."

Here it comes.

"If mom acts like that when you tell her for the thousandth time that you're going to call child services, then how do you think she'll react when I tell her I want to become a nymphomaniac and live in a nudist colony?"

Ladies and gentlemen, my sister.

Frustrated, my eyes flicked to the stereo.

It was ten forty-five.

I was late.

Motherfucker.


A/N:

So, no Paul this chapter, but we do get his POV next time.

I wanted to thank everyone who favorited and followed Basket-Case. And to guest Noface for the review.

You know, if you have any questions about what you read, or you didn't like something, tell me. Any kind of review is a good review in my books. Constructive criticism would be very helpful.