A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my mom. She's the kind of wonderful person who sees the good in everything and everyone. I know that she'd love me even if I was a murderous psychopath.
The stories that I'd heard about my son had not been pleasant ones. The happiest piece of news that I'd heard from his "friends" in the anomaly was that he was wandering the desert with some sort of demon baby. I probably shouldn't have gone looking for him, but the barrier would be there to protect me. It took all day, but eventually I found him.
I couldn't think of anything to write on my notebook, so I went with this:
Hi, Drake. It's been a long time since I've seen you. I've heard a lot of stories about you from the other children. It seems like nothing's changed much, except the arm.
Drake looked at me, angrily confused. He shouted something, but I couldn't hear him since he was on the other side of the wall. The girl who was standing next to him teasingly offered him a stick, which he used to hit her over the head before responding. When he did write something in response, I couldn't tell what it said. Everything was just scribbles. I made the universal gesture for "what?"
Instead of a response from either of the teenagers, they both started arguing. I couldn't tell if they were a squabbling couple or just "frenemies." Personally, it was hard for me to imagine Drake in either of those relationship, especially the former. Yet, here I stood, watching my friend argue with a girl who must've been gorgeous before she faced starvation in the anomaly. When they were done fighting, the girl had a bloody lip and the writing stick, which she used to write this message.
My name is Diana Ladris. I'll be writing Drake's messages for him since he's too stupid to learn how to write with his left hand.
Thank you for your help, Diana. I don't mean to pry, but what's your relationship with my son?
She had to think about that for a moment.
We're definitely not friends, but we always seem to be forced to hang out with each other. For a demented sadist, I've learned to put up with him.
That was good progress for my son. If I hadn't heard the stories, I would've believed that the FAYZ had changed him for the better.
Is there anything Drake wants to tell me about?
Drake started talking to Diana. He seemed angry, but I was still anxious to hear what he said. I was disappointed when all Diana wrote was:
He does, but I'm not sure if you want to hear it. Anything you want to tell him about?
I was wondering if Drake would agree to meet here once a week, so he could talk to a counselor. I have the number of a very good psychologist.
My suggestion made Drake break down laughing.
He's seriously considering it.
That was sarcasm, right?
Nope, I'm just really unobservant.
Is there any way you could convince him to come?
Well, if we had some chains and a death wish I could try to chain him to a cactus, but he still wouldn't be able to communicate with the shrink.
Well, you could write for him, like you're doing now.
I could also change my name to Burt, cover myself in wet sand, and try to become a singer/song writer.
I'm assuming that's a no.
Your skills of deduction are impressive, Sherlock.
How had this girl not died yet? I never really understood how my son's brain worked, but I understood one thing. He could not stand being teased.
I know that this is a slightly invasive question, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but do you feel safe around my son?
Hell no, but that doesn't mean I'm some defenseless little flower who can't keep herself protected. I know how to survive.
Suddenly, my son started to transform into a younger girl. She was a pudgy little thing with braces, glasses, and pimples on her face.
You're Brittney, aren't you?
Diana handed her the writing stick so she could write Yes, I am.
So, what's it like when my son takes over? Do you have any form of control?
No, it's almost like I'm sleeping.
What's it like in during the transformation?
Strange. I can feel myself slowly fading away.
Did you know Drake before you were the same person?
No, not really. I knew of him, but I didn't know him. I guess that's still the way it is now. I can't really talk to him, but I know about everything he does. It's strange. It almost feels like I'm stalking him sometimes.
The eerie silence that I'd gotten used to, was suddenly shattered by a grown man calling out "Britney Boo!"
I turned my head in the direction of his voice to see two very overweight people stumbling towards me. They were obviously Brittney's parents. They had the same hair, the same eyes, the same weight, and even the same glasses. It was almost as unnerving as the matching T-shirts with Brittney's face on them that read "has anybody seen our Brittney Boo?"
As I watched Brittney tearfully reconnecting with her parents, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Drake and I would never have the same bond that Britney did with her parents. I didn't really need to be that close, but I do wish Drake would return some of the love that I've felt for him over the last fifteen years. That's right, I loved him. He was a monstrous psychopath, but that didn't change anything. He was still my son, and I was still his mother.
