I hated these streets on which I walked. Dobermans growled and barked, homeless persons begged for a meal or spare change, gunshots rang out and people yelled and screamed. It was hell, but to see Aunt Cindy I'd walk on hot coals. She was practically was my sanctuary. Aunt Cindy was one unique character. She called herself and was called by her friends Original Cindy. My mother knew before she was even pregnant with me that Aunt Cindy would be my godmother. Aunt Cindy was the one person I could trust to talk to me straight—no false faces with her. Nothing was a fib or a white lie or even half-truths. She was the only one who could talk about my mother and not break down in hysterical tears.

Aunt Cindy's apartment was not as nice as the one Daddy and I lived in, but it always smelled nice with the scent of cinnamon candles and Aunt Cindy kept it as clean as she could. I was always welcomed there.

"Hey, Boo," she greeted me with a kiss on the cheek when she saw me standing in the hallway of the building. She stole a quick glance at the clock on her wall. "Hold up. It's ten after nine, shouldn't ya be in school? 'Cuz Original Cindy ain't housin' no hooky-playas."

"School was cancelled today, Aunt Cindy," I said, stepping inside. I could hear soft R&B music wafting throughout the apartment like the pleasant aroma of baking bread. Aunt Cindy plucked snowflakes from my dark hair as I took of my gloves. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"That's for me to know and you to ignore, Boo," Aunt Cindy joked. "I'll get you some cocoa. Look's like you need somethin' hot inside you."

Aunt Cindy went into the kitchen and I took off my sweatshirt. Even in my heavy blue jeans and long-sleeved burgundy T-shirt I shivered. I unfolded a woven blanket that was on the couch and wrapped it around me, like a shawl to get the chill out of my body. The snow had let up since I got inside. It wasn't falling in big fat flakes anymore. Now it looked more like powdered sugar.

"You like yours with milk, right, Boo?" Aunt Cindy called from the kitchen.

"Yes."

She emerged from the kitchen, her creamy brown skin was identical to that of the hot chocolate in the mug. She handed one to me and kept one for herself. The heat from the liquid surged through my fingers, dissolving the itch I'd had earlier to destroy my mother's possessions. Aunt Cindy kept her black eyes on me as she peered over the mug. "I'm getting' chills, Boo…I'm sittin' here thinkin' I was havin' a drink with yo' momma. We used to do this on cold days together when we didn't have work."

"What did my mother do?" I asked between sips.

"We worked for a parcel service called Jam Pony for this monster named Normal…funny, ain't it? Not a day went by I didn't think of layin' the smackdown on his ass. 'Course she was also a—" Aunt Cindy stopped herself and changed the subject. "Why you askin', Boo?"

"Oh…nothing. No reason…just curiosity…she was also a what, Aunt Cindy?"

"Boo, does your daddy know you here?"

I took a long sip of the hot chocolate to avoid the question. Aunt Cindy smirked.

"Thought so…what's wrong, Boo? Someone hurt you? Can't be yo' daddy. No, Logan wouldn't hit Max's baby."

"He hurt me in a different way, Aunt Cindy."

"Say what?"

I put my mug down and let the blanket fall from my shoulders. "I heard Bling and Daddy talking about my mother…something about a place called Mandicore and about her genes. Do you have any idea what that could be?"

Aunt Cindy's eyes went from sympathetic to terrified. "I think you better be gettin' on home, Boo." She stood up and took my mug off of the coffee table and went back into the kitchen. She came out a few seconds later and handed me my gloves from the side table of the couch.

"Aunt Cindy…"

"Git on home. Yo' daddy be worried sick when he figures out his baby is gone." She rushed me out the door, tossing me my sweatshirt on the way out. She shut the door to keep me out just as quickly as she had opened it to let me in. I put my ear to the door to figure out what had scared her so to throw me out. I heard Aunt Cindy walk across the room…pick up the phone…and dial a number. I left just after I heard her say, "Logan, it's Original Cindy."

I couldn't get home quick enough. Despite the weather, I ran. Halfway there I slid headfirst on the ice and bumped my nose hard, causing both my nose and lip to cut and bleed. The ribbon in my hair flew off and just as I approached the building Daddy and I lived in, I slipped and fell on my butt, the ice seeping through my jeans. I must've looked a sight as I took the elevator to the penthouse. Daddy was waiting for me by the table in the foyer where the stained glass vase once stood. Bling was nowhere to be seen. The portable phone was in Daddy's lap. I swallowed hard.

"Daddy, I…"

He handed me a tissue with a look of disgust, "Your lip and nose are bleeding. Clean yourself up, Maxine, then we'll talk." He turned his back to me.

"I'm sorry, Daddy…I feel wretched."

Daddy waved me off, his back still to me. He was mad. I'd never seen him this mad before. I'd never seen him this mad, ever. I stood there, still, watching him wheel back and forth slowly, like his own personal rocking chair. I remember he used to do that when I was little, like 3 or 4 years old, and could still fit in his lap. He would hum a little tune—nothing recognizable, maybe Chopin or Mozart (Daddy was a classical music fan)—to lull me to sleep and when I woke up, I would be in my bed. Sighing, I lowered my chin to my chest and shuffled to my room. I closed the door and went to my bathroom. I was surprised my mirror didn't break from the shock of seeing my reflection—I looked ugly enough to scare a wolf. My hair was mussed and the dried blood on my chin and streaked across my cheek from where I wiped my bleeding nose with my sleeve, which also had a dark red stain across it. Sighing, I took a washcloth and wet it with warm water. I wiped away the blood from my face and used it to try and remove the blood from my sleeve. When it didn't work, I simply threw it on the floor and stomped on it at a childish attempt to try and make things better. Listlessly, I flopped spread-eagle onto my bed, put my head under my pillow and screamed. I don't know why—maybe the frustration of being the only kid I knew who didn't have a mother or maybe I just felt like screaming. I made believe I was screaming at my mother.

"I HATE YOU!!! I HATE YOU!!! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO AND DIE ON ME LIKE THAT??? WHY DID YOU DIE ON DADDY??? YOU'RE SELFISH FOR LEAVING US, MOMMY, YOU BITCH!!! YOU MURDERED ME AND LEFT ME HERE TO TAKE THE BLAME!!! I HATE YOU!!!"

My screams turned into sobs, my sobs into tears. My voice was gone. I stumbled out of bed and found Daddy lighting candles by my mother's picture. He looked up and saw my cheeks streaked with wetness. "Come here, kitten."

I ran over to him and we hugged each other tight. He patted my curls and kissed my cheek over and over again like a parental bandage for mental boo-boo's. Daddy used to ask, pulling me into his lap, "Where does it hurt, kitten?" And kiss me where it hurt to make the pain go away.

Daddy led me to the couch and he sat across from me, hunched over in his wheelchair so he wouldn't have to talk so loud, his hands folded in his lap. I curled in my legs and hugged them against my abdomen, resting my chin on my knees. Daddy cleared his throat.

"Original Cindy called me and said you came to her with questions about Max—I mean, your mother."

I admitted I did.

"Why didn't you come to me first, Maxine?"

I loved hearing him call me Maxine. It was like a breath of fresh air. "I didn't want to upset you."

"I understand that now that you're becoming more of an adult you're going to be missing her more and more," Daddy said, cupping her wedding ring in his palm that hung around my neck on a solid gold chain. To Max With Love glinted in the candlelight. "You were eavesdropping on Bling and I about the vase, correct?"

I nodded, "What was Mandicore?"

Daddy nodded towards the table where the vase was. "Max really loved that vase, you know. She found it at a flea market before we were married. It was covered with dust and it cost her a dollar. She cleaned it and shined it up and then gilded it. She gave it to me and said, 'Here, Logan. It will give this place some more class.' Ever since then it's never been moved from that spot…until now."

"Daddy?"

"Maxine, I'm not sure how you'll take this whole thing. It shocked me myself when your mother first told me."

"How old were you?"

"We were both in our early twenties."

"I think I can take it. I want to know everything—no half truths."

Daddy drummed his fingers on his knee. "Everything may not be as pretty as you think."

"I don't care…tell me. Start at the very beginning. Where was she born?"

"You're really into this, aren't you?" Daddy took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. "Well, if you're going to keep bugging me about it…

"Your mother was born and raised in a corporation called Mandicore. They created humans none like any other—super humans with feline DNA. It enhanced their speed, sight and hearing. They were stronger than others, they were more intelligent. Nevertheless, Mandicore was a living hell to anyone who was unfortunate enough to live there. There, they were trained as soldiers, to use their hands as lethal weapons. They weren't known by names but by numbers. Your mother was known as X5-452. They each had a barcode tattooed on their neck to identify them. When they got out, they named each other. Your mother was called Max. One night during the wintertime, your mother organized an escape from Mandicore. They were nine years old at the time."

"Only nine?"

"Like I said, they were stronger and more intelligent. Only about ten of them out of about thirteen or fifteen made it out safely. Guards chased them with guns and tazers."

"How did Mom make it out?"

"She jumped through some thin ice on a lake and hid underneath."

"Why didn't she freeze to death?"

"They were trained to withstand such temperatures and to hold their breath for hours. She waited until all the guards were gone and snuck out that way."

"And she came to Seattle and married you, right?"

Daddy wrapped one of my corkscrew curls around his finger and tugged it gently. "There's a lot more in-between, kitten."

"How did you meet?"

"Well, as she got older and out on her own, she started working for Jam Pony. Original Cindy told me she mentioned that to you. Max also worked as a cat burglar, or at least I think that's what she was. I caught her inside the penthouse trying to steal a statue."

My eyes went wide. "That was before you were in the wheelchair, right?"

Daddy looked at his lap. "Yeah, about a week."

I knew that Daddy had also been out of the wheelchair twice and ended up back in it again within a month. His leg muscles simply weren't strong enough.

"What did you do at the time?"

"Same as I do now. Cyber journalism. Of course, back then I had a television announcement called Eyes Only that came on periodically to alert people about the government."

"How come you don't do it anymore?"

"Your mom usually did the 'street work' for me, so I could stay here and go in depth of the story I was working on."

"What happened to the other kids Mom escaped with?"

"I was just getting to that. Do you, by any chance, remember your sixth birthday party?"

"Yes, I do."

"Do you remember who was there?"

"Ro was there, and Gina and Mavoureen—why?"

"No, not kids, the adults. Were there any other adults you remember besides myself and Original Cindy?"

"Y-yes…vaguely…two women."

"They were your mother's sisters, Jace and Tinga, from Mandicore."

"Sisters? Like…Eva? Was Eva in Mandicore?"

Daddy was taken aback. "You remember Eva? Wait, no that's impossible. She died when she was nine."

"You told me once that Mom was going to name me Eva after her little sister who died."

"Yes, Eva was in Mandicore."

"And that man that's in the picture with her…was he in Mandicore?"

"What man? Which picture?"

I went into Daddy's bedroom and returned with a picture of Mom with a tall, muscular blond man with his arm around her. They were sitting on sand, indicating they were at a beach. "Who's this?" I handed the picture to Daddy and sat back on the couch.

"Zack. X5-764. Your mother's brother. If you were born a boy she wanted to name you after him."

"Is he still around?"

"No," Daddy put the picture on the coffee table. "He committed suicide three years before your mother and I were married."

"Committed suicide?"

Daddy nodded sadly, "Your mother was in need of a new heart. She was shot breaking into Mandicore with him. But as an X5, she needed the heart of an X5. Zack kept yelling at the doctors to do something to save her but when he was told they had no donor, he took his gun and said, 'Here's your donor' and shot himself. They implanted his heart into her body."

My heart sank. "Would he have been a person I would've liked?"

"I think you and Zack would have gotten along great. He loved your mother as much as I did. They were very close."

I put the picture back in its frame and sighed. Upon my return to the living room, I asked Daddy why I'd never seen Jace and Tinga after my sixth birthday.

"I didn't want them here. I didn't want to bring up the past or expose you to Mandicore. I told them politely that they weren't wanted here anymore now that Max was gone."

Gone. That brought another question to my mind, "How exactly did she die? My mother, I mean. There has to be a reason. Did she loose too much blood? Did her heart stop? Did she…" I couldn't continue.

"There were some problems during her labor. The doctor told her she had to make a choice: her life or yours. She chose yours, saying having you live would be worth passing on."

"What were her last words?"

Daddy bit his lip, reluctant. I knew his tongue wanted to blurt out that I'd asked enough questions but he opened his mouth to reply, "She turned to me and said, 'Logan, how can you love someone so much that you just met?'"