Oh my god guys, I'm updating so much, it's insane. HAHAHA.

I only got one review for my last chapter (Thank you btw, child who is cool.) Am I bad at writing smut? :(

This chapter takes a more serious turn, though. So the fun was awesome while it lasted. I personally think this is one of the most important chapters/parts in the entire story, because it reveals so much; you'll see. :D

Go ahead and read!

"[Review] it even if you hate it." – Michael Buckley

A week after our first time, Kendall went with me to the mall to buy presents for my friends. I walked to the sports shop to buy Logan, Carlos, and James hockey gear, with assistance from Kendall, of course. After almost causing all of the helmets to fall to the floor, Kendall and I exited the store giggling nervously with bags in our hands. Ina and Nicole would have to wait for another trip to the mall so I could buy them their presents.

We then went shopping for clothes for the New Year. I was obsessed with clothes, and I always found comfort in finding awesome things on sale, in any store.

After about 30 minutes of forcing Kendall watch me as I tried on several outfits (this proving a difficult task because someone couldn't keep their hands off of me as I tried on different shirts), my stomach grumbled audibly and I turned to him and said, "I'm hungry."

"I noticed," He chuckled, grabbing my hand, "then let's eat, my dear."

We reached the food court and ordered sushi form the Japanese restaurant and sat down. I was facing toward a table where a woman and a boy of about 10 were sitting. I dipped my California Roll into the saucer of soy sauce, my eyes still on the woman.

The woman stared back at me after a moment, with familiar eyes. Something about her was screaming, "YOU KNOW THIS WOMAN!" Then it dawned on me. I stuffed the roll into my mouth, chewed, and swallowed quickly, "Kendall? Let's eat somewhere else. C'mon. Let's go." I moved and picked up my sushi and soy sauce, almost leaving the bags filled with items I just bought.

Kendall swallowed his own sushi and asked, "What? What's wrong?"

I huffed, starting to walk away, "Please, let's just-"

"Maria?" the woman asked, standing now.

Kendall stood, "Do you know her?"

"Of course I do," the woman answered before I could, "she's my daughter."

"What do you want" I asked sharply, Kendall keeping a hand on my arm.

My mother stepped forward, "I just want to talk… I miss you."

I scoffed, "Bullshit."

Kendall pulled me aside gently, and spoke, "Baby. I know she's been absent, and I know you don't like talking about her, much less, to her, but she is your mother. Give her a chance."

Angry tears spilled from her eyes, "Why should I? She hasn't been my mother since I was 10."

"I understand. But she's here, right? She's trying to make amends." He tried.

I thought for a moment, then wiped away my tears and sighed, "Fine." I knew I had to do this, even if it was just for closure. He wrapped me in an embraced and pressed his lips softly to my forehead, a silent way of assuring me that everything would be fine. Then, we walked back over to my so-called-mother.

Before I spoke to her, I bent down to the boy, my brother David and asked, "Do you remember me?"

He nodded, "Yes. You're my sister."

I smiled, "Good. So. Do you wanna sit and talk?" this time, addressing my mother.

"Sure." She sat down, "who's your friend?"

"Hey David, meet my boyfriend, Kendall. He's really nice, go talk with him." I didn't want him to be around when we talked, it could get ugly.

My mother watched as Kendall high-fived him "hello" and they made their way away from the table, "I can see that he cares about you."

"I know. I know when people do, or don't care about me, mother." I replied with a sneer.

Ignoring this, she continued," How are you?"

I stared at her blankly now, "I'm fine."

"How's school?"

"Good."

"How is your fa-?"

"Why are you here?" I interrupted her.

She was taken aback, "I was-"

"Why, after all these years, did you decide to show up?"

"I didn't want to leave you- You have to understand-"

"Bull. Shit." I spat, "If you didn't want to leave me, you wouldn't have, mother. I'm your eldest. Why the fuck did you leave me with him? Huh? You knew how he was- still is. A drinker, and abusive. Why?" tears stung my eyes, falling rapidly onto the sticky food court table.

The woman in front of me inhaled shakily, "I needed to get away. I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to save David before he could get hurt too, and I knew you'd be strong enough to handle him-"

"I WAS TEN FUCKING YEARS OLD." I yelled, "I DIDN'T HAVE MUCH OF A CHOICE WHEN YOU LEFT. Shit, MA. I've been living hell for the last seven years. Your piece of shit husband has hit me, spent all of his money on booze, and doesn't care that the electricity gets shut off unless he's watching his fucking T. V. I've had five different jobs to keep his sorry ass alive. And where were you? Gone. This scar, on my neck, something I see every morning shows me that you left, and I had to pay for it."

My mother was sobbing, finding it hard to talk coherently, "B-b-but I'm here, n-n-now. I'm s-s-sorry. Give me a chance. Please."

I shook my head and stood up, "You had your chance when I was ten, it's too late." I walked over to Kendall, squeezing David's shoulder and kissing his cheek, grabbing my stuff from a nearby table.

I picked up my food that I was no longer hungry for and threw it into the trash. I looked at Kendall and pleaded, trying to ignore the stares from various passer-by-ers, "Can we please go back to your house now?"

He nodded in silent understanding, following behind me as I left my mother. David was standing next to her, his hand rubbing her back soothingly. I saw something on his face before I walked away: an apology.

We reached Kendall's car silently, our hands separating to walk to our sides of the car. We drove out of the parking structure, no words spoken, only tears spilling until the atmosphere of the day and the recent encounter became so overwhelming.

I sobbed and cried, the tears running down my face incessantly. I felt Kendall interlock his fingers with mine, and kiss the back of my hand, "It's okay. It's okay." He cooed. I sobbed loudly in return for some time until my body became lethargic, I finally falling asleep.

The 20 minute drive from the mall to his house was lost in tears and sleep. From what Kendall told me, when we reached the house, I was in a deep slumber. I didn't remember him carrying me from his car and into his room with no problem, promising his mom that he'll explain later, if he wanted me too as he passed her. I didn't recall as he laid me down onto his bed, whimpering when I didn't feel his arms around me. My mind refused to replay the moment as I cried silently until Kendall followed suit, covering his body with his arms, wrapping me with complete comfort. Kendall explained that it was the only thing that stopped me from crying.

This was all relayed to me the next morning, when I woke up with the biggest pain behind my eyes and a very intricate pattern on my cheek from Kendall's sheets. Kendall's arms were still wrapped around my middle, his breath even against the back of my head. I looked at the time on my cell phone which was placed under my head: 7:35. I slept for roughly 12 hours. A slumber lost in darkness, and no dreams. I turned to face Kendall, burying my face in his chest as he woke slightly.

He wiped the sleep from his eyes and kissed my hair, "Good morning, baby."

I smiled, "Good morning."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Better than last night," I replied, looking up at him, "thank you. For everything. And I'm sorry for freaking out on you."

He shook his head, "No worries. I'm here for you."

I took a breath, "I feel like… I should talk about it. Once and for all. To get everything off my chest."

He smoothed his hand over the small of my back, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"I think I need to."

"Maybe. But take your time, babe. I'll be here for a while."

I grinned and reached up to place a kiss on his lips. A moment passed, the only sounds in the room were out breaths and our beating hearts. True signs that we were alive. I knew that if I wanted to live even better, I needed to say everything I've ever wanted to say about my family, my parents, my life. I knew Kendall would be the one person who would understand and never judge me on my choices.

I exhaled every breath inside of my lungs and began, "My mom left me when I was 10. My father had just lost his job about two months prior, and decided to take up drinking as a replacement activity. At first, it wasn't too bad; the only real effects were that he always smelled like stale beer. But soon, my mother started complaining, which meant my parents started arguing.

I remember one night, my mom was complaining about the heat. We couldn't afford turning on our air conditioning. My dad blamed everything on my mom for not having a job; she was recently laid off, the company she used to work for still trying to convince our family that her being on maternity leave a year before had nothing to do with their decision. Of course, my mom rebuked that he had no right to talk, because he really didn't. Unfortunately, my dad didn't take this well, and it ended with my mom on the floor, blood dripping from her eyebrow from skimming the corner of the kitchen counter during her violent tumble.

David started crying, his two year old mind scared at seeing his mother in trouble. I picked him up and cleaned up the mess as my mother silently walked to the bathroom to clean off her scrape. It went on like this for several months, arguments brewing until my mom was on the floor, crying and/or bleeding. I always cleaned up after her, always soothed the baby too. Finally, she had enough.

One afternoon, I came home from school to a house with no more baby clothes, and a note on my bed that said, 'Sorry, my love' scrawled in my mother's handwriting. I didn't have time to react because my father had stormed into my room then and hurled me across the room in a fit of anger. It was the first beating I received."

Kendall's breath had been still and I saw a hint of tears in his eyes. I didn't realize I had been crying too, until I saw the wet marks on his chest. He had no idea what I had been through. Even though I had known him since we were toddlers, when everything was nice and nothing hurt.

I continued, "In 8th grade, I finally had enough. Though he had found another job, and had a somewhat steady salary, things were not better. I thought that if I could get my father to stop drinking, things would be fixed. But it wasn't that easy. One morning while my father slept in his room, I took the last beer bottle my father was nursing in his arms while he snored, set on throwing it away, then taking away his money. However, I wasn't counting on him waking up, but he did. I heard his footsteps thud toward the stairs, his voice booming, asking where his beer went. I ran faster down the stairs. He spotted me, and ran too; three steps down from the first floor, I felt a pair of hands shove into my back, attempting to grab the beer bottle.

The bottle left my hand, and sailed toward our wooden floors, me following quickly behind. The glass shattered as it met the floor, shards flying everywhere. My face landed in the sea of glass, one particular piece, piercing into the sensitive flesh of my neck. I screamed out in pain, while my father screamed for his beer. I dragged my body to the nearest bathroom, locked the door, and looked in the mirror. Tiny pieces of glass littered my neck and shoulder, one large piece running from my ear to the middle of my neck. I held my breath, and yanked the piece out, screaming in agony. The adrenaline pumping through my veins wasn't enough to mask the pain in my neck.

When I left the bathroom, a towel pressed to my neck to suppress the bleeding, my father was nowhere to be found. I walked as quickly as I could to the school and straight to the nurse's office. The nurse was kind enough to drive me to the hospital after I explained to her that I couldn't afford an ambulance. When asked, I explained to the doctors and police that it was an accident, my father was at work and knew nothing about it. Luckily, they stopped asking questions. They did call my father to pick me up after the stitches were set. Two weeks later, my father drove me again to get them removed. It was the only time I felt a glimmer of care from him since I was 9.

And now… Now I'm here, with this scar as a reminder of everything that has gone wrong in my life. I know that if my mother had stayed, or if she took me, I would not have this, this thing on my face. I could have been pretty…" I cried into his chest some more before he lifted my chin.

I looked into his eyes, so full of care and assurance, and for once, I believed it when he said, "You are beautiful."