My sister wasn't her usual talkative self as we drove home from our father's funeral. Willard told me she had suffered from another miscarriage just a few days ago. It was her fourth one since they got married. I couldn't imagine wanting a baby that badly. Maybe if I had been someone else I would. Maybe if I hadn't been broken at the age of eighteen.

I take her hand as we get out of the car, giving it a gentle squeeze as we walk up the stairs.

She looks at me, not sure what I'm doing.

"I can't remember the last time you comforted me. Actually I don't think you've ever have."

She lets go of my hand and doesn't turn to see if her words had stung me as she walks inside. She's right. I've never comforted her before but then again she's never comforted me before either. Not after I had Beth. Not after any if the times she saw our father hit me. We were never close as sisters. Why start now?

Sam pulls up a couple minutes later. Our son isn't with him. I'm guessing Carole is watching him. At least he has her in his life. An almost grandmother is better than no grandmother at all. Just like an almost mother is better than no mother at all.

He sits on the step and pats the spot next to him. I sit, our legs barely touching.

"How you doing?" He looks into my eyes and I can tell he actually cares.

"The same."

"As what?"

"As before. No regrets. Not when it comes to my father. I have a boatload about you and Lucien."

"I like the way you say his name," he nudged me.

I don't want to say that it's hard to call him my son. Even harder to call him our son or his son. Not with the truth eating away at what's left of my heart.

I'm saved from saying anything with the arrival of Cooper. He parks behind Sam's truck and makes his way to us. Now that I know the truth I see bits and pieces of both Sam, Frannie, and I in his features. I had promised him I'd tell Frannie the truth.

Sam and Cooper shake hands. Even though they knew each other already this was the first time they acknowledged their biological connection.

The two head inside leaving me to my thoughts.

I think about the people inside. My sister and brother-in-law wanting so badly for a child and failing. The father of my daughter who was always there for me whenever I needed him expect that night. The night no one could save me from. The man I prayed to whatever God was above was the biological father of my son and could love him even if he wasn't. The man that proved my mother was more like me than she ever admitted.

I think about the two children my body produced. The one I was too young to raise. The one I would most likely never see again. I may have given birth to her but I would never be her mother. And then there was my son. The one that was longing for a mother in his life. The one that deserved to be loved no matter what. It wasn't his fault how he was born. I could be in his life if I wanted to be and yet I knew I couldn't be. Not with how broken I still was.

What made all these people my family? Not a common experience. We all had a different story even though many of them contained the same characters. The villain in mine was the hero in Frannie's. Not DNA. Not all of us were blood related. Did we ever have a bond and if so when was the last time I felt it?

The last time I felt I bond with my parents was when they walked me to school the first day of kindergarten. They held my hand, squeezing it when they felt I was getting nervous. Frannie had given me a hug before running off to join her friends. It was the last good day I could remember. The last day we were truly a family.

In just a few years I was scared of so many things. The dark. Storms. My father. I remember one night when I was nine I was shaking in my bed. My parents wouldn't allow me to have a nightlight anymore saying I was too old. It was raining outside and I was afraid I wouldn't hear my father if he came in. My sister heard me crying and carried her into her room. She held me close, protecting me from the world.

At eighteen Puck carried me to safety. My body seared with pain. I reached for his face, wanting to make sure it was really him and not my father coming back for more. His cheek was wet. He was crying and saying how sorry he was. He made me hold on even though I didn't want to. He kept whispering it would be alright. He held on when I didn't want to.

Not even nine months later the doctors placed a baby in my arms as Sam and Holly watched. He burned my cold arms. He was so full of life. Unlike me who was dying inside. He looked up at me and I couldn't look away. He hadn't asked to be born and yet here he was. "Hello," I whispered, kissing his forehead. I hoped he didn't know that I was really saying goodbye.

A half dozen cigarettes later I finally have the strength to go inside and tell Frannie the truth. The woman she loved but not as much as she loved our father was more flawed than we all thought. She may have put on a brave face for the world but the truth was she was only human and no human was perfect.

Lucien was asleep by the time Sam and I arrived at their house. My car was packed. I knew it was time to go. I didn't belong in Lima. I didn't belong anywhere.

"Leave in the morning. You can leave in the morning," he pointed out.

I was so tired I could have slept anywhere. I had left Frannie and Cooper at my parents` house to get to know each other. No one had come to pay their respects for my father. None of his business associates. None of his clients. Not even the old glee club.

Cooper was what you got when mixed our DNA but possibly so was Lucien.

I had also finally told the truth about my connection to Sam's son. I think Puck always knew and Cooper had suspected but Frannie had no idea.

"I think it's funny that the only thing you turned out to be good at is getting pregnant," Frannie tells me later on in the kitchen.

It was nice to see that her spunk had returned. I knew that knowing her life was better than mine always made her feel better about herself. She wasn't a good sister and I had a feeling she wouldn't be a good mother either.

"And drinking. I'm an expert at that," I point out, taking a seat at the table.

"What was it like to give birth?"

She sits across from me and I can tell she really wants to know so I tell her the stories about my children and what it was like to die inside.

I sit on the couch and watch Sam close up his house for the night. He looks so sure in his life and I think about how lucky Lucien is to have someone like him for a father.

"I have something for you," he pulls a bag out of the coffee table and sets it down on my lap.

I know it's my mother's locket. The one I had lost that night we had been together. Pulling them out, I hold them in my hand. It's almost like having her here with me.

I had ran for ten years and yet I was back where I had started. In that garage apartment with Sam. I set the locket down and followed him upstairs. We don't say anything as we undress and get into bed. We met each other in the middle as if no time has passed.

Once we are done, I roll away from Sam with my back to him. It's just my fourth time with a man and my first time since that night.

My body always seemed to betray me. When beaten it healed . When touched it responded without considering the consequences. And when raped I feared it had produced life. My body failed at protecting me.

"It still hurts," I whisper to Sam.

He rolled closer to me, wrapping me in his arms as if the simple gesture could protect me.

He isn't who you think he is….

The sun has yet to raise when I slip out of Sam's. I ignore the shadow I think I see as I get into my car. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me or maybe it's trying to protect me from the one place I know I need to go to before leaving Ohio for the last time.

I'm the only one on the road as my car carries me down the same road my father took that night. I could drive to the cabin with my eyes closed. With the locket around my neck and the feeling of Sam inside of me I know I'm protected.

Everything looked the same as I pull up. Same cabins. Same bridge. I don't know what I'm expecting from coming here. A part of me was hoping to find my sketchbook even though deep down I knew it was long gone. If I was going to tell Lucien who I was, I needed him to see the good in me.

I watch myself from outside my body, just like I had that night. I see myself carefully approach the bridge and start to cross. I look over the edge, hoping to see some sign of the sketchbook but it's long gone. I'm on the other side on my hands and knees looking over the edge when I hear it. Someone calling my name. Lucien. On the bridge.

Getting up, I look at him, not sure what he needs from me.

"Help. I'm afraid of heights," he admits, holding the side tightly in his hand.

"Just look at me. Don't move."

We lock eyes as I move onto the bridge. His legs are shaking and I'm afraid he's going to fall if he takes a step. His arms wrap around me once I get to him.

Is this what I could have been experiencing the last nine years? Arms around me warming my frozen heart? Someone thinking only the best about me?

Now isn't the time to be thinking about that. I lead him back across the bridge. We stand there in front of my car. His arms tighten around me, his face burying into my shirt. I feel his tears. I pat his back, whispering that it's alright just like Sam did last night.

"I don't want you to go," he whispers.

It would be so easy to tell him I wasn't going anywhere but there had already been so many lies between us.

"You hid in my car didn't you?"

He nods. "You're leaving." It isn't a question.

"Just for a little while."

I leave the maybe unspoken. I lead him to my car. He sits in the front seat, his body turned toward me. We sit in silence for I don't know how long. His lip is turned down a bit just like mine used to when there was something I wanted to say but knew I shouldn't.

"I'm your mother," I finally sat breaking the silence.

He doesn't say anything and I don't know if that makes this harder or better.

"Something bad happened to me here. That's why I left."

"Was it me?" he finally asked.

After running for all this time I finally knew the answer to that question.

"No. It had nothing to do with you." I let the tears fall freely from my eyes.

He takes my hand, giving it a squeeze like his father used to. I look at his birthmark and for the first time it doesn't make me sick.

"I miss Holly," he admits.

"Me too."