Disclaimer: I don't own A:TLA.

Thanks to WildCitrusSunflower, katara-zuko1714, Eponymous-Pascal, Rainproof Coyote, PlotbunnyChariot and OliveTreeHugger

for your ever amazing reviews!

This chapter is in Katara's POV and is based on Work by Iggy Azalea.

Sometimes, I forget that I have all the time in the world to achieve my goals. Sometimes, I forget that life is to be enjoyed and I am overcome with anxiety. The kind of anxiety that leaves you in fear, that if you were to step out onto the veranda, something dreadful would happen to someone I love. I know it is silly to worry about such things, but something's cannot be helped and I am afraid that this is one of those occasions.

For a very long time, after my loving mother died to protect me, I was overcome with grief. It was a tragic accident. My mother was mistaken for a gang lord, and I was mistaken as that very gang lord's daughter. Apparently, this particular gang lord owed some very important and menacing people a large sum of money; a sum of money that ends in five noughts. And I was to be taken as ransom, as a precautionary measure so my 'gang lord' mother would pay the enormous fee. But of course, my mother was never associated with any form of crime. On the contrary actually, my mother grew up in a very poor neighbourhood, full of crime and whatnot. A small minority of undesirables put the fear of God into my mother and she swore no matter what, that she wouldn't involve herself in any form of crime. My mother was too honest, too dignified. She begged and pleaded with the unforgiving gangsters, claiming that she wasn't who they thought. But of course, this only spurred them on further, proving that she was the guilty leader.

She pushed herself in front of me furiously, shooting me a look of pure and unadulterated fear; the kind of fear that no one can ever forget. And forget I did not.

I watched helplessly as my mother was brutally murdered, duct tape plastered across my mouth, my wide blue eyes screaming metaphorically. I couldn't do anything, although I kicked and shoved, elbowed and slapped all my struggling was for naught.

Before my very eyes, she was shot ten times through the chest and once through the head.

I have never been able to forget it.

The look my mom shot me before she succumbed to death still brings me over the edge. And still seven years later, I can suddenly cry without restraint at any hour of the day or night.

I'm just so lucky to have such family and friends, who have been nothing but understanding to me.

And I'm lucky that my husband is so understanding. His childhood wasn't exactly the best either and when I find the bed empty except for me late at night, I know that he is crying and that he only tries to stay strong for me.

This makes me cry as well.

Zuko and I cry together. This is how it is.

Wow! So close to 200 reviews! :O

Thank you so, so, so much! :D :D I am so happy that I could dance a jig! :D

Well, I hope you all like this chapter! A bit darker than the rest, I suppose :)