A/N: Hey, long time no see? Hey, sorry for not updating.


The pain that traveled through the limbs and through the skull wasn't too bad. He can do this. He can. He just needed to see his mother, and his brother.

Where was James?

He couldn't see that far, his hearing was wrong, and he couldn't pinpoint where his mother was.

Where is she?

He could still see though, it hurt. The lights were too bright and the smell of vomit and sweat was nauseous. But he could see her. On the other bed, made from scraps of cloths too dirty, and from soft cotton.

She was sick too.

Her hair was sticking to her skull, her forehead shinny and her bones were showing through her skin. She looked worse. Her lips were too dry, and her eyes closed. But she was breathing.

Where is James?

Their mama was too sick to moved, the doctor said. That a few days of rest and good medicine would be the miracle that they craved. But good medicine was a luxury that they couldn't afford. That they were too poor, even as his mama worked too much and earned too little.

Where is James?

He could still move, his joints stuffed and his back hurt too much, but his mama needed him. Or did he needed her? It didn't matter, what matter was family and now, his family was in the other side of the room. He moved through the pain that left him shaking and gasping, biting through pain.

His mama opened her eyes, finally, when she felt the bed dip. Her eyes were glassy, too blank but that's okay because she opened them and she was smiling.

Where is James?

James had the medicine, he said, with the money that they all earned that he will go to the other side of town and get the good kind of medicine. That was hours ago. Or was it days? Minutes? He doesn't remember. But when his mama pulled him in, and kissed his head, everything was okay.

Because mama was here, and she will make everything okay.

James didn't matter now, the sickness didn't matter now, his father didn't matter now. Just mama and him and everything was okay in the universe.

He never remembers falling asleep.


They said that his mama died in her sleep, peacefully and without pain. That she went to heaven and was with God. He always believed in God, but now everything seemed a little dim. But it's okay because he alive. They said that James was too late to save their mama, but not too late for them. That it was a miracle.

That didn't matter though, because mama was dead.

Dead, unmoving, and he couldn't deal with this

His father came back.

He hit him and kicked, and smashed, slashed, and he cried that he killed mama.

Which wasn't a lie, not really. Because that was the truth, which he was a murder.

He left afterwards, only came to collect James. That he needed a worker and that he was too weak and too sick. That brought bad luck. He saw them get on the truck and left him in the dust.

(He could swear that his heart broke and the world was a little dimmer)


He moved to his cousin's. He was always nice, said that his mother's sister was his mother. So that made them family and nothing was more important than family. And he is okay with that.

He stayed with him during his birthday. And it wasn't later after a nice meal, that he realized that this was the first year without mama. Everything was nice and warm. He didn't have splinters anymore, or blisters in his feet.

And he had his own room, small, yet his. He still had the small dictionary in English with fancy, old words that he and his mother would learn.

But he now has a bed, and with warm food. And his cousin too. He was always tired, but always smiled. It wasn't after his thirteen birthday, a year since the Accident, where his cousin was extra nice and gave him a brand new journal. Took him around town and bought him many gifts.

(Maybe it was an apology)

Later that night he would find him hanging from the ceiling. And he cried and cried, even after the social worker came and, the police too, and he still cried.

Because after everything, life came and took and tore everything apart.

He still cried, when the people left him in the stranger's home. A nice old woman, that have him a pouch of money when the social workers came. A new program, something that would benefit everyone.

She said, in a low voice, "Take this and never stop. Take this and get a better life."

She died a few days later.


He was in the States. He already knew English, maybe that's why they picked him. But that doesn't matter because his mama is dead, his cousin is dead, and James is gone.

But the Journal in his lap is the only company that he has now. It was still stiff and new, but it was an escape.

They gave them to a nice couple in New York. A city where you could be a new man. A new start. The social worker told him that this was his new start, not to mess it up.

He as kicked out three months later. That the young new couple couldn't deal with the strange Caribbean kid who cried and cursed them out.

A different social worker came for him. The young couple apologized and bid him goodbye.

The social worker was nice. She gave him a candy and told him to stay tight and that he will have a home that would fit.

But he knew from experience that you should never trust the word of an adult who "wants" to help you. Because those are the liars, that want to cause you pain.

Those were the lairs.

So he kept his mouth shut and his eyes closed.


Four more homes and his social worker finally gave up on him. He was wondering when she was giving up, she was young and pretty, sure she would make a wonderful mother.

She said that she was giving him to a nice family, a desperate attempt to keep him in line. A couple in Virginia. With two sons, adopted. She smiled and lied through her teeth.