Tanya Rodding's Apartment
August 24, 1980
11:25am
It was a typical summer day. Too hot, too bright, too loud, too busy. The heat came down on Hyde's skin like plaster the moment he stepped out of his apartment. He took the long way to Tanya's on purpose, relishing in the cool air conditioning of his El Camino.
The second he turned the engine back off and opened his car door he was melting again, cursing under his breath as he shoved his key into his pocket. The woman Sam stayed with lived on the first floor of this place—a rundown one-building apartment that looked like it hadn't been painted since the twenties.
He'd grown up poor—was never a picky person, never cared enough to judge anyone based on the state of their home. And he didn't give a rat's ass where Tanya lived. But he did give a shit about where Sam lived, and if he could offer her a nicer, safer place, then what the hell was stopping him?
He was sick of playing this game with her. She was still upset with him—clearly. And, yeah, she had a right to be. The conversations they'd had since he found out she was pregnant had been limited. Actually, that was the last time they had had a real conversation. Everything after that had been rushed single-exchanges. Most of the time he didn't even speak to her directly, having to pass on a message through the hairdresser she worked with who'd decided to take her in.
No, she doesn't want your money, she would hiss at him through the phone.
No, I can take her to the doctor myself.
No, you can't call back.
It pissed him off every time. He and the old lady had exchanged many insults and curses at one another's expense. No matter how he tried to word it, she didn't seem to get that he wasn't calling to throw money at Sam. He wanted to help her deal with all this crap, and if she would actually stop and listen to him, she'd realize it. But she wouldn't stop to listen, so now he was leaving the record store in Leo's hands in the middle of the day to find her.
He'd gone to the salon first, but she wasn't there, and neither was Tanya. Which brought him here, praying that she'd actually agree to see him this time.
He walked up to the door and knocked three times, fists clenched tightly. He waited. Nothing. Maybe they weren't here. He knocked again just in case. Then the door opened.
Tanya stood on the other side, her drawn-on eyebrows raised lazily, as if she'd known he would show up and had been sitting around waiting for him.
"Tanya," he greeted, not cheerily, blinking down at her.
"Hyde," she sneered, lip curled and teeth bared. Her hair was pulled back and tied into a knot on top of her head so tight he was positive she had a headache.
He cut right to the chase. "Sam here?"
"No. She's at the salon."
"No she's not. Checked there first."
"Well she's not here."
"So then where the hell is she?"
"Don't know." But Hyde caught the moment her eyes flicked off to the side.
He took a quick moment to make sure his voice stayed level then said, "I know she's here, Tanya. Just lemme talk to her." And then, though it pained him, he added, "Please."
"She doesn't want to see you."
"She doesn't or you don't want her to?"
He could feel his anger rising. Tanya had always hated him. Not 'cause of anything he ever did or said to her but because she'd taken Sam under her wing almost instantly and had decided Hyde did not deserve her. He'd never cared about that much and neither had Sam, but now it was getting on his nerves.
"Both." She lifted her chin defiantly.
"Look, all due respect, lady, but this is none of your business. Sam!" He raised his voice so that she could hear him. "Sam, c'mon, man, you gotta talk to me at some point."
No one answered.
His body deflated. "Tanya, listen. She listens to you. Would you just tell her—I know this whole thing is fucked up and I may not have…reacted to the news in the best way." He paused for a beat. He wanted to tell her he was sorry but the words had a hard time coming out to Tanya. He skipped that part out, decided to tell her himself, when he saw her. "But I'm tryin' now, all right? I got a place fixed up, moved outta the basement. I cut back on drinking. And smoking."
He paused again. He hadn't said that out loud before, but now that it was out he realized how good it felt that it was true. It gave him just enough guts to push through the rest of what he had to say. "And I'm gettin' better. But it's still—it's still hard, man. I didn't know what to do. I come from a…my family was fucked up and…look, it doesn't matter, but-"
"You think I feel sorry for you, chamaco?" she asked, scoffing. "You were scared? You come from a bad place? What you think about her? Where do you think she comes from? Do you even know? Did you bother to ask during esa pendejada you called a marriage? Or were you too busy fucking her then rolling over on the other side of the bed and dreaming of someone else?"
If she was a dude Hyde would've punched her. "Don't talk about shit you don't know about," he said to her, his voice dropping low. He had no idea why he was bothering to argue with her but he felt the need to defend himself gnaw at him. "Don't act like you know what it was like. Sam and I had a de…an arrangement. I never lied to her. Never. We both knew what we're goin' into. We were friends. Until you started putting all this crap in her head."
"Until she fell in love with you," she corrected.
"I had no idea. Till she sat in front of me crying and told me herself, I thought we were on the same damn page."
"Even so," she sniffed. "You think you were scared? Imagine finding out you're pregnant after you've already left the man you love, who does not love you, and who now, since you left, owes you nothing? Who has no obligation to help or take care of you."
"I told her I would. That same night she came to me, I told her that."
"And then?"
"And then what? Then nothing! Then she started avoiding me!"
"Where were you last week?"
"What?"
"She went to find you. Those people you lived with answered the door. Imagine, then, how she felt, finding out you went on vacation with the reason she left you."
"It's not—it wasn't like that." But his mind was blanking. Of course she'd gone to see him in the week he was gone. Of course she'd find out about that damn cruise.
Then the panic started to rise. Because if she was upset over him just going on that goddamn cruise then if she knew what happened on it…
But she wouldn't know. No one knew and it would stay that way. But he was done talking about this. Especially to someone that wasn't her. Especially when the conversation was starting to shift to Jackie, and even before the cruise, Hyde would have stayed miles away from that topic.
"Whatever, man," he said. "If she doesn't wanna talk to me now then fine, but give her my address, would ya? And my new number. Tell her to come find me whenever she's ready."
Car Dealership
August 24, 1980
11:27am
Jackie's hair stuck to the back of her neck. She felt sticky and in desperate need of a shower, but she knew a shower would do little to wash away all the worries plaguing her.
"That's it?" she asked, summoning a shrill voice, folding her arms defiantly over her chest.
The man standing opposite her gave her a look just as stubborn. "Young lady, this vehicle model has been discontinued for a newer model for years now. It's not in terrible condition but by no means does it look new. What I'm offering you is the best you're gonna get."
"Oh yeah?" Jackie demanded, but she could feel her voice and her will wavering. "Well I guess I'll just have to go somewhere else to find out for myself, won't I?"
The man stared her down. She met his gaze evenly. Finally, he relented.
"I'll raise the price by $1200. Take it or leave it. You go snoopin' around somewhere else, the offer's off the table."
Jackie's heart rate sped. She wished she'd brought someone with her. Who would know whether she was being scammed or not, who would know how to bargain back.
She cursed herself mentally. She should have asked Mr. Forman beforehand what he thought the Lincoln was worth. But then again it was better this way, with no one around pestering her with questions she couldn't—wouldn't—answer.
Just under ten thousand dollars. That's what she was getting for the car. Not even a fraction of the way there. Hopelessness gnawed at her.
"I'll take it," she mumbled at last, her gaze dropping to her feet.
"Wonderful," the man smiled. "I'll write you a check?"
Green Bay, Wisconsin
August 24,1980
3:57pm
Music was not helping. For the first time in his life, Hyde drove in a silent El Camino, the volume turned all the way down as he gripped the steering wheel.
Twenty minutes into his drive, he had accepted that this time the music–no matter how good or bad or country–would not work to drown out the thoughts banging around his brain.
His mouth was set in a firm line, his expression stoic, but his damn heart made him feel like his entire body was shaking.
He could turn around now. But if he didn't do this today he didn't think he ever would. So he kept driving. And driving, and driving, until finally, he was shifting the car into park. The street was paved but unmaintained—he had to dodge holes in the road; and when he stepped outside he wasn't sure if the smell of trash or smoke was more prominent.
He felt like puking—though to be fair, he couldn't be sure if that was the smell or just his nerves.
There was nothing to be scared of, really. He wasn't a kid anymore. He had a car, a job, a place to live. He could leave whenever he wanted. He could leave right now. Turn around, get back in his car, switch on the engine, drive away without anyone knowing he'd been here. He could but he wouldn't, and that sense of power and control carried him to the front door.
He knocked. He waited.
Nearly three hours he'd driven. He wished he'd had more time.
"WHO IS IT?" The yell was loud and hoarse, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. He heard the sound of shuffling feet come closer.
He didn't yell back an answer.
"Whaddya want?" his aunt demanded before even opening the door fully.
His voice, to his relief, came out flat and leveled. "Pleasant as ever, aren't ya?"
A mirthless smile with several missing teeth flashed at him. "Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to show up, eh?"
"Better late than never," he shrugged, then tried to peer behind her. He couldn't see anything, but he thought he could hear the sound of a TV on in the distance.
"You're too late."
Hyde's heart stuttered; he was sure his breath audibly jumped between his lips. He couldn't be. He couldn't have driven out here for nothing. He couldn't have put himself through this for nothing.
"Just kiddin,'' his aunt Ruth smiled again. "Edna ain't ever goin' down without a fight. And she knew you were comin.' Said she weren't goin' nowhere till you showed up."
"I didn't even know I was comin' till a couple hours ago."
"You know what they say, boy. A mother always knows. Come in."
He followed her inside, hands in his pockets, jaw tight. "Some mother."
"Hey, now," Ruth said sternly. "Don't be judgin' your mama. She tried her best with you."
Hyde didn't bother with a retort. There was no use. "Whatever," was all he mumbled.
To make matters even worse, his head started throbbing. The place reeked of alcohol and weed and all the things he craved but hadn't touched in weeks.
"Where's she?" he asked, standing in the middle of the living room like an idiot. He knew the house, had spent plenty terrible weekends here. But it had been long enough that it felt wrong and impolite to go wandering down the narrow hallway. Ruth looked at him weirdly. He should have expected it. They didn't do much of 'polite' here.
"Follow me," she said after a couple moments, sounding resigned. She shuffled forward, then sneered when she passed him. "Ya smell like the suburbs."
He glared at the back of her head. "It's called soap."
She gave him another good, long, hateful look. "Don't forget where you came from, boy. Mind the goddamn manners you learned with your pretend family." She stopped in front of a door, swung it open, sauntered in. "EDNA!" she yelled harshly. The sound echoed and rattled around in his mind.
Over his aunt's shoulder, Hyde could see her.
She was done with dyeing her hair ridiculous, obviously unnatural colors now. It was a mixture of gray and rotten brown, thinning and dry, pulled back away from her face. She was skinnier - bone thin. He could see a bone at her wrist jut out of her skin. Her face was sunken too, her skin pale. She looked sick. Weak. Like how he felt.
"You got a visitor," Ruth said with the same contempt in her voice she'd always had.
She stepped aside so he could walk in. He did. Cleared his throat, made himself visible.
"Hey, Ma."
Jackie's House
August 24, 1980
4:13pm
She stood in the driveway and stared at the door. There was no reason she should feel so scared. The house was hers, big and empty as it was. She'd grown up here. Lived most of her life here. She knew exactly what she'd find when she stepped inside. But her feet felt like they'd become one with the concrete.
Despite the intensity of the sun she couldn't carry herself inside–even after walking here because she'd just sold her car, and why should she waste money and time on calling a taxi when she was a ten minute walk away?
Maybe that was the reason she felt like such a fraud at her own house. Her home had never been particularly welcoming to the poor. She felt like the moment she stepped inside it would recoil and spit her out.
She moved forward. Rested her hand on the doorknob. Turned and pushed and—it was locked. Of course. It had been empty for over a year. Since Jackie had returned from Chicago and come to a series of revelations—that her mom would never be coming back home; that the most important relationship in her life had come to a bitter end in a single, terrible night; that this house was way too big and way too expensive for just her; and that it was too jam-packed with memories for her to be able to live in peace.
She dug quickly in her bag and pulled out her key. The door popped open with a click. Jackie walked inside.
When the door shut behind her it was like she was transported back to another time. Standing in the empty foyer, she could see herself as a little girl running through it, expertly dodging men and women in black and white uniforms.
"Jackie!" She'd come to a halt when Pam Burkhart, younger then, and still a brunette, called her name and stepped in front of her. "Sweetheart," she cooed, "Pretty girls in pretty dresses don't run. Especially not when we have guests over!"
"But that boy was chasing me," Jackie pouted.
Her mom's smile softened for a quick second, then widened into something more frightening. "And you especially don't run from boys with money."
In the present, Jackie shuddered at the memory.
She ventured deeper into her house and further into her mind. Walking down the hallway she saw herself crouched down behind a large vase, her skirts swishing over her ankles. She had known her mother would kill her if she found her like this, but she was bored, tired of playing with her dolls, and very curious about what was so secret her mom had tried to lock her in her room.
But all that she heard were boring business exchanges and low chuckles and clinking glasses. The numbers she heard were big, but they were already rich, and Jackie couldn't fathom why her parents had thought she would be remotely interested in this. Maybe she should have stayed locked in her room, to avoid this painful waste of time.
She was about to stand up and creep back up the stairs when a chair scraped and voices got louder. Jakie bunched her skirt closer around her legs.
She heard her father exchange pleasantries with another man.
The words had meant little to her then so she could not quite recall them now. They were almost always pompous and arrogant. Lines like: 'it's men like us who make the world go round' and 'you gotta be willing to get your hands dirty to get the prize.'
Pressing her lips together, Jackie turned around and walked back to the foyer and up the stairs, careful not to touch the dusty railing.
She could remember being little, so small her head was just barely able to look over the rail, and throwing a fit on these stairs. Stomping her feet and squeezing the banister with her fists, begging one or both of her parents not to leave again.
Every single time, it ended with her watching the front door close, neither of her parents ever looking back.
Jackie sucked in a breath as she got to the top of the stairs. She inched her way forward, walking past her room to her parents' room, right outside their door, where, for countless nights, Jackie had stood–unsure if she should knock or not, listening to the arguments, the yelling, until finally she would leave. Back to her room where she could pretend everything was just fine.
Pretend, pretend, pretend.
Jackie was starting to think there was no part of her life that was really, truly real.
At last, Jackie came face-to-face with her childhood bedroom. She wasn't sure why she felt such a sense of foreboding, but it took a lot of courage for her to put her hand on the doorknob and push it open.
Jackie walked inside. It felt like all the air got sucked out of her lungs. She put her hand out on her wall to steady herself.
It looked exactly like she remembered it and like nothing she'd ever seen before.
When they'd scavenged through the house the first time, Jackie had forbidden (then begged) them from going into her room.
Take anything else, she had told them. Just not from in there.
Like all the other times, the eyes and the pout and the sob story worked. Her room went unscathed.
She stood in it now, a relic of her old life. The walls were pink but dull. Posters on her wall had faded. Her dresser, her vanity, her bedframe, her mirrors were all caked in dust. Her closet was mostly bare, her drawers empty. It was like standing in a ghost town. Everything was still there but all the soul had been sucked out.
Had these been the best years of her life or the worst?
Jackie didn't even realize when it starts happening–first her breaths get quicker, then she's gasping for air, clutching her chest, falling to the floor in a heap of sobs.
She can't do this.
She'd traded her life for half a million dollars. And for the first time, she could admit it was more than she was worth.
She'd thought–she'd really thought–her dad would help her. It was his mess. She was his daughter. There should have been some part of him that felt the need to protect her. He shouldn't have left her to fend for herself. To materialize hundreds of thousands of dollars out of thin air.
She can't do this.
And she couldn't ask for help either. To go to anyone would be to put a target on their back. A death sentence. She couldn't. She wouldn't.
But what she would do, she had no idea.
She was in so much trouble.
She sat crumpled on the floor, in the middle of her childhood bedroom in an otherwise empty house, where no one knew where she was and no one would be able to hear her.
Jackie was alone. Really, truly alone.
Ruth Smith's House
August 24th, 1980
4:13pm
"Well, well."
Her voice grated against his ears, like nails scratching against a chalkboard.
"Looks like my son finally decided I was worth his time."
She said the word son like it was dripping with poison. Red hot anger set ablaze within him, crawling up the sides of his throat.
He was surprised when his voice came out steady.
"You asked me to come."
"Only wanted to see if you would."
"And? You satisfied?"
She looked him up and down. He braced himself. "You look good, son."
Despite his best efforts, Hyde winced. The unexpected kindness was worse than anything he could have prepared for.
"Thanks." He bridged the gap between them, moving toward the chair that sat by her bed. "I'd say the same but…"
"I know. Death don't look good on nobody, trust me."
"It's that bad then?"
But he could tell it was–she looked even worse up close. Her bones were jutting out her skin, her mouth hung open, like it either hurt to close or she couldn't do it herself, and splashes of redness splayed across her pale skin.
"Not too long now."
Hyde nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."
She waved it away. "I didn't bring ya here to feel sorry for me."
"So why did ya?" he asked, clearing his throat, his heart pounding. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to that. He thought maybe that was why he'd been putting off coming here for so long. Not because he couldn't bear to face her but because he couldn't bear to know why she wanted to see him.
An uneasy smile formed on her face. "Had to see for myself how you turned out. Think I did good."
"You did good?"
"Don't get that attitude with me, boy. I've told ya a million times, leavin' was the best I coulda done. For both of us. Toughened you up. Prepared you for the world. Taught you how to get things for yourself. How to learn who you could depend on–answer to that one's nobody.
"And me," she went on. "I got to see the world. Well, maybe not the world. But I made it to LA for a bit. With Randy–you remember Randy? Didn't last very long, but, goddamn, it was fun. Got married for a couple months, too. Had a whole year down in Atlanta. That's why being in this piece-of-shit bed don't bother me too much. I have lived so many lifetimes since I last saw ya."
The anger turned to rage turned to hatred turned to hurt. He'd known but now he knew. She had never regretted it, not once. He couldn't even bother pretending to be surprised. She had never failed to remind him that he was her biggest burden. To this day, on her deathbed, she believed it.
"Good for you, Ma."
"What, you don't agree?" she asked. Daring him to argue. Poking him for a fight.
He didn't give it to her. "Nah, you're right," he said. "Leaving's the best thing you ever did for me."
A harsh silence falls upon them.
Then– "That's all you got to say?"
"What else do you want me to say, Ma?"
She glared at him.
"You still live in the suburbs?"
"No. Got my own place now."
"Good," she commented. "Didn't want you staying with those people too long anyway. They're too soft, the lot of 'em. Too sheltered."
The veins in Hyde's neck strained, but he said nothing.
"Got a girlfriend?"
Hyde closed his knuckles in on each other and squeezed. "Did for a bit."
"Anyone I know?"
"Remember Jackie Burkhart?"
It felt good to say. To watch his mother's face as she registered who he was talking about. "That rich bitch?" Hyde squared his shoulders and waited for it. "The one with the big-time daddy who owns half the town? The one who convinced you to steal my money to pay for a goddamn corsage so you could take 'er to prom?"
"She didn't convince me to steal your money. She had no idea."
"Listen to you," she sneered, "Defending a girl who'd step on ya soon as she gets the chance." She took a deep, shaky inhale before continuing. "I can't believe you fell for a cheap shot like that. What, was she good in bed? Or was she payin' ya to piss off her family? Huh? What in the world could possess you to go out with one of them?"
Them. Hyde nearly laughed. She was so delusional it was hard to believe. There was no use trying to explain to her that Jackie was a real person and not just an ATM. There was no use telling her that he'd fallen in love with Jackie long before she'd fallen in love with him. His mother, he was sure, had no idea what love felt like.
"Didn't realize how invested you'd be in my dating life."
"I didn't realize my son would turn out to be a chump." Her gaze hardened. "You still with her?"
"No."
Underneath the evenness of his voice, she could hear the hurt in it. The regret. And at that, Edna smiled.
"Good," she said. "What happened there? She break your heart?"
She was still goading, and it was working. Hyde's temper was brimming, threatening to spill over. He felt like screaming. How would she react if he told her that he was the one who broke her heart? She'd be proud of him, probably, for the first time in her life. And what if he told her that it wasn't because he wanted to or because he didn't love her or because he realized she was one of them, but because he was so fucked up that after years together he still hadn't figured out how to love her properly?
She took his silence for an answer. "'Course she did. Pathetic boy."
"You done?"
"Letting some princess walk all over ya. Tell me somethin,' did she ever introduce ya to her family? To dear old daddy?"
"Her dad's in jail now actually."
"You didn't answer my question."
"I don't wanna talk about her with you, all right? Shut it."
Edna stared at him for a long time. "Well I'll be damned," she muttered at last. "You still got a thing for her, don't ya?"
"Did you hear what I just said?"
"Fuckin' hell, Steven, this is why I always told ya to be smart about how you trust people. People, they don't stay, son. None of 'em, ever. You gotta be the one to leave. Every time. Before they do it to you and you're the one left sittin' there all sad and mopey. Your father and I knew that–"
"My father?" Hyde leaned forward. "Which one?"
Edna's eyes flashed, and finally, Hyde knew he found the thing that threw her off the edge.
"You know who your father is, boy."
She said the name, "Bud Hyde," at the same time he said, "William Barnett."
"Don't mention that man's name," she warned.
Hyde knew she had to be aware that he knew who his real dad was. His Aunt Ruth had made a comment about it on one of the phone calls they'd had. But she was still playing the ignorant role, and Hyde took a sort of sadistic pleasure in knowing he'd rattled her.
"Why not? He's my real father isn't he?"
"That man left you before you were even born?"
"He didn't know you were pregnant."
Edna's face was expressionless, but her eyes looked angry.
Hyde pressed on, "He told me so. Said if he knew he would've made different decisions."
"Shut up."
"He didn't leave me, Ma. He left you."
"That the story he told ya?"
"Did you know you were pregnant when he left?"
"'Course I knew," she spat.
And Hyde, angrier than ever, spat back, "So you just decided he would never know I exist? To just ruin my life before I was even born? Picked up Bud and hoped you'd be able to pretend I was his? Does Bud even know I'm not his."
"Oh, shut the hell up. You sound just like that middle-class suburban family you've been shackin' up with. Talkin' 'bout ruinin' your life and makin' all these decisions. This isn't no damn soap opera. Your father up and left so I gave you a new one. Lucky I even did that."
"Lucky?"
"Yes, lucky. Believe me when I tell you he would've left you, too, sooner or later. The minute he realized you needed time, money, and effort he'd've been out that door. Only thing William Barnett put time, money, and effort into was that goddamn store he was always yappin' about."
"You mean Grooves?"
"Whatever it was called."
"Is called. It's still up and runnin.' A chain store now."
"Even worse," she replied in distaste, and Hyde wondered for a second how someone could be so bitter.
"Just opened up a store in Point Place, actually. It's doing pretty well. There'd only been a couple other record stores in town, and most of 'em were beat down. Took us a while to get on our feet, of course, but with W.B.'s investments and my ideas the place turned out pretty cool."
"Don't tell me…" his mother trailed, her face becoming even paler. "You're one of 'em."
"Oh. Silly me. Forgot to mention I run the place, didn't I? Well, except for the weekends I'm up visiting W.B. in Milwaukee."
His mom's voice came out barely a whisper. "What have you become?"
Hyde shrugged. "Guess I'm my father's son, after all. Hard as you tried to fight it."
"So what?" she asked. "You come here to wave my failures all in my face? To prove somethin?'"
"I came here bec–"
"'Cause let me tell you somethin,' boy. Whatever you think you got goin' for ya, you don't. Whoever you think you got on your side, you don't. Call me a bad mom all you want but I tried to teach it to ya before you learn the hard way."
"You–"
"You know what I think when I look at you? I think 'My God, what a fuckin' mistake.' The moment I had ya I knew right then what had been taken from me. My youth. My life. Had to quit my job at the bar and pick up somethin' more consistent, they said. Bud was runnin' 'round sleepin' with other women and I had to sit there and take it cause I needed his money to take care of you. Got that job at that goddamn school cafeteria. You stole the fun from my life. And you weren't even a good kid! Never listened to anythin' I said. You were upstart from the moment ya learned to talk. Always cryin,' always complainin.'"
"I was a kid."
"Worse than that. You were my kid."
"You should've gotten rid o' me, then!" he yelled. He couldn't tell if his body was physically shaking or if his heart was just beating so hard it felt like it. "You think I wanted to be here? You think I wanted to live like that?"
"You're damn right, I should've!" she screamed back at him as best she could. "It's my biggest fucking regret! And you think I'm the only one who thinks it? Believe you me, son, every single person you drag into your sorry life is gonna go down with ya. It's just what you do. You ruin. You destroy.
"That family ya live with–how much dough did they have to spend on ya, feeding and housing the poor little orphan boy. How many times you think they laid awake at night thinkin' why the hell they agreed to it? And that girl you were with? You think she doesn't regret being with ya? Even if I didn't know she was rich and snooty I'd know you did somethin' to fuck 'er over so bad she left ya. God forbid you ever get anybody pregnant. Take my advice: get rid of it. You'll only ruin its life too."
Hyde felt like…like he was the one dying, gasping for air. He had nothing else to come at her with. Her words had done the job–beaten him down. Just like they had when he was little. And just like he had when he was little, Hyde bowed his head and took them in. Because she was right. Because despite how little he wanted to, he believed everything she was saying.
"I'm your mother, and even I can't stand the sight of ya. And tell me, Steven, if your own mother can't love you, who will?"
A/N: hey...