AN: Hey, sorry for the long wait. Anyways, this story is done, and I might try writing another project before moving on to the main story of Lost Until Found. Thanks!

III

I wonder what's going to happen to Percy.

I hope it's nothing too bad because the poor kid has been through enough already; more than most people face in their entire lives.

You know, with that much back luck, he better get some good luck later on in life.

Maybe he'll win the lottery?

Today was the day.

Today, my mom and I were going to tell Gabe that we were moving to San Francisco.

And I was scared out of my own skin.

But I shoved all those thoughts away. There was no room for doubt. Well, there was always room for doubt, just not in this particular situation.

Over the past few weeks, I had begun to get excited about moving. I mean, it's not like I'm leaving anything behind. I didn't have any friends or people in general, besides my mom, and I was definitely taking her with me.

Really, the only thing I was leaving was New York.

And honestly, I was so done with endless traffic and freezing winters.

But when my mom told me today was the day, that excitement turned to dread.

And when my mom got home from work, fear.

True, pure, fear.

Fear for what? I had no idea. I had this feeling, like something bad was going to happen, something I wouldn't be able to stop or change.

"We can't tell him today," I told my mom, skidding to a stop in front of her.

"Why not?" She asked me, unloading all her things on the kitchen counter. She had just gotten back from an eight-hour shift, and she looked exhausted.

"I don't know… I have a bad feeling," I replied. It sounded silly when I said it out loud.

"We have to. We're leaving next week. It's now or never. We can't wait forever." She peeked around the wall. "Let's go!" my mom walked out of the kitchen and into the living room where Gabe was.

As soon as I walked in after her, that bad feeling turned so much worse. Gabe was drunk.

When Gabe was drunk, he was even more reckless and stupid than when he was sober.

I tried to warn my mom, but she was already confidently striding over to the disgusting, smelly chair Gabe inhabited.

"Gabe, honey, we have to talk," my mom started off, diverting Gabe's attention from the TV.

"What?" Gabe asks, a little pissed. "I was watching my game!"

"We're moving to California."

It happened so fast, even I was shocked. I couldn't believe my mom had just spit that out like it was a fact, and there was nothing Gabe could do about it. I knew from experience he wasn't going to like that.

Gabe's face morphed from something like surprise and confusion to anger and… well, still confusion.

"What?" Gabe asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

My mom grimaced and repeated, "We're moving to California. San Francisco, specifically."

"What?" Gabe asked one more time.

I would have laughed at Gabe's stupidity if the situation wasn't so dire. I was beginning to see in my mind what Gabe would do next. And I knew it wasn't going to be pretty.

"Are you joking?" Gabe asked, his voice softer than usual. It was so honest, I almost, almost, believed that we were out of harm's way. But people don't just change like that -wave hands in general direction-. I've seen Gabe go into full rage mode over something so small and insignificant, something like… his favorite show not being on that day.

"Percy's cancer… got worse, and now the clinic we've been going to can't help him anymore. He needs real help; chemo and radiation," My mom informed him. "A company in California has offered to test their new science-y stuff on him."

"Don't you know how much that'll cost?" Gabe asked her, his voice still suspiciously calm.

"They've offered to pay for it all," my mom said, smiling slowly. "And to pay for all our expenses for… a long time."

"How long?" Gabe challenged.

My mom walked up to him and whispered something in his ear. Almost immediately, Gabe's eyebrows shot up, as if they decided they wanted to take a vacation in space. A slow but steady smile appeared on his face and I breathed a sigh of relief.

And that's when it happened.

I didn't even know Gabe could move that fast.

He must have broken his own record because he moved faster than his food on Mexican day. He lunged forward, his face suddenly a canvas for red paint.

He knocked my mom over. She crashed onto the floor with a surprised grunt, and I flinched at the sound.

I knew this was going to happen. How could I have been so stupid! Of course, was Gabe was mad! And now my mom was going to pay for it.

Indignation coursed through my veins. How dare this sorry excuse for a human hurt my mom. And what was I doing about it? Nothing!?

I narrowed my eyes and tried to walk over to where my mom was being beaten, to try and pull Gabe off, try and help. But I couldn't. I looked down in shock at my unmoving legs. I willed them to move, but all I got was a twitch.

I looked back up in shock at my mom's moans and yelps. I saw bruises start to form on her legs and arms, and she had a trail of blood on her left wrist.

I thought Gabe would stop once his anger had run out, but he didn't. He kept hitting, punching, and roaring in anger. He didn't stop, not even when my mom had stopped yelling out in pain. Instead, she sat still, most likely, her body was already numb from the abuse.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Gabe roared, and my mom took a hit to the face.

"WHY"

A kick to the leg

"DIDN'T"

A slap to the ribs.

"YOU"

A hit to the thigh.

"TELL ME?"

Gabe's heavy breathing filled my mind as he grunted and walked away, into the kitchen. Suddenly, I could walk again, and that's what I was doing, and when I reached my mom I started to sob. Tears dripped onto her bloody wounds.

"I'm so sorry- I -I can't-" I tried but I couldn't form any sentences.

"Shh, it's okay, it's not your fault. I should have-"

Suddenly, my mom's eyes widened and she raised her arms around

me, squeezing me tight. At first, I thought she was hugging me, but suddenly, I was thrown to the side.

Gabe had returned, and this time he had a knife. My mom rolled to the side at the last second, and the long knife was thrown to the ground where we had been moments ago.

I couldn't believe what was happened. Why wasn't Gabe stopping?

The knife was so close to me; if I could just grab it before Gabe, I could keep it from him. Maybe I could even get revenge.

I wanted to, I wanted to so bad, but my body was back to being frozen in shock, and I couldn't move.

I strained my body forward but all I could manage was to extend my arm, parallel to the knife.

Gabe staggered over to the knife and took it out of the ground. His eyes flashed in triumph. The knife seemed to sparkle in the light as Gabe flipped it between his fingers.

I realized what was happening last second. Gabe wasn't just going to chop one of my mom's fingers off. He was gonna kill her. He started to advance, knife out front and center.

Somehow, that thought empowered me, and suddenly I could move again. I rushed forward between my mom and Gabe, spreading my hands in an attempt to protect her.

But Gabe didn't slow down. I braced myself for a fight, a fight I knew I wasn't going to win. Gabe was at least three times my size. He could knock me over and I wouldn't even be able to put up a fight. It would be fighting twenty of my bullies at school, all at once.

He pushed me aside, and as I fell, everything seemed to turn to slow motion. I could see the red in Gabe's face, the white in my mom's. Gabe's eyes narrowed in what seemed like concentration as he brought the knife down. My mom turned to look at me for what I knew was the last time.

There was so much love in her eyes as she stared at me. She opened her mouth as if to say something, when she staggered, her mouth forming a small "O". Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she fell gracefully.

The knife was protruding out of her back, on the left side of her chest.

Someone was screaming; a horrible sound full of pain and hatred. It seemed to echo around the room, taunting me.

I hit the ground with a thud and winced.

I wish I had hit my head. If I had hit my head, maybe I would have fallen unconscious, and I would be free from the pain I was feeling right now. Maybe, if I was lucky, my cancer would take hold again.

The screaming was back and now so was the crying. My throat burned as I sobbed, the tears never stopped flowing.

She was gone, and I wished I was too.

What happened in the days that followed was all a blur.

I might have eaten at some point, or maybe I didn't. I'm certain I didn't leave my room for days, trapped in my own mental prison.

She was gone.

I couldn't believe it. One minute she was there… and then she just wasn't. He vaguely remembered the paramedics and police coming into our apartment, and Gabe bursting down in tears. He must have some brain cells up there because he was smart enough to switch from the cruel one to the victim.

But I knew better. And I was going to have to live with that knowledge for the rest of my short miserable life.

Of course, Gabe was still going to take up the offer in San Francisco; there was no way Gabe was turning down an offer like that. Free-living for a couple of years? That was anybody's dream, not just his.

Of course, I didn't care about all that. In fact, I didn't even want to move anymore. I didn't want to leave her behind. I couldn't.

But I had no choice.

She was gone.

What was I going to do without her?

I had nothing to live for now, no reason. The only family I had left was Gabe. And he didn't deserve a family. The only thing tying me to this life was my memories. They could never take my memories.

She was gone.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

On the day of the flight, I was in so much pain, I almost couldn't raise my own head.

My head was pounding, and my stomach rolling. I had to turn all the lights in the apartment off because my eyes couldn't handle it. I busted down crying every five minutes, and I couldn't stop looking at the photo album.

In short: I was a mess. Mentally and physically.

"Hurry up, you lazy piece of krap!" Gabe yelled from the living room.

Gabe had spent the last couple of days packing what he called the essentials: beer, the tv, red meat, and his oh-so-precious tv remote. He claimed that it didn't show up in San Fran, he would call the cops for a full-scale investigation.

I had to try really hard not to laugh.

I grabbed the last of my stuff and headed out the door and into the car. Gabe turned the key and the 2008 Buick Enclave roared to live. We drove all the way to JFK airport.

The seats -no surprise- were economy, middle aisle. If my mom was here, I would have complained and asked why we didn't get the window seats.

I was pushed up against Gabe and some old man in his sixties, reading some magazine on Jennifer Lopez.

I inched away from Gabe, and as close to the old man as humanly possible, without it being considered, "weird."

The planes' engines whirled to life and the plane moved down the massive road laid out in front of it. Soon we were going fast enough to lift off, and that's exactly what we did.

Once the plane was level, and the seatbelt sign turned off, I started to read along with the man. Apparently, the magazine he was reading wasn't just on Jennifer Lopez. And besides getting up to use the washroom, that's all I did for the seven-hour flight.

At some point, the old man must have realized all I was going to do was read what he was reading, so his magazines gradually shifted to stuff more aimed at kids. He didn't ask my name or my age. In fact, he didn't speak a word to me for the whole flight, which I appreciated, because I don't think I could have answered.

When we were getting off, I spotted the old man winking at me. I smiled and waved goodbye, mouthing, thank you.

The old man smiled and mouthed, your welcome.

Our place was awesome. It was an apartment, just like in New York, but it was bigger, and much, much, cleaner. But maybe that was because Gabe hadn't been living here. That would change soon.

It was fully decked out with food, and paintings. It was a two-bedroom, so I had my own room. I could tell which one was mine immediately because it was decorated sea-green- my favorite color.

The first night was especially hard. I cried throughout the night and only stopped when Gabe threatened to knock my lights out if I didn't shut up.

Yep, my life was definitely going to be very different in San Francisco.

And maybe that was a good thing?

Nah. Probably not. Not with Gabe.

But I owed it to my mom to try.