A/N: I realized last time that I forgot to write in a disclaimer so here it is.

I do not own Final Fantasy VIII. I probably never will and that's sad. I know. I merely own this plot and the fun that comes along manipulating characters.

With that said, I can now say that that will probably be the only disclaimer to grace this story and I hope that suits you just fine. I'd also like to say thanks for all the encouraging reviews.


Chapter 2: Dog Bites

"Mommy!" An excited four-year old child yelled as he spied his mother's car roll up in the parking lot. A smile lit up his face and eyes. He rushed about the room, putting the toys he had played with back in their respective places, getting ready to leave the daycare to go home.

A child-like innocence radiated from his figure as he ran to the door and hugged his mother as she walked in. He had waited all day for his mother to come pick him up, playing with the children while waiting for the hands of the clock to form the line that connected the three to the nine.

Alexander's excitement to see his mother didn't mean that he didn't like the daycare or the people who ran it. He had come accept the daycare ladies as second mothers. However, lunch that day consisted of Brussels sprouts, broccoli and meatloaf; three of Alexander's least favorite food reunited on the same plate. Detestable.

Rinoa smiled as her son hugged her legs, clinging to them for dear life. He was a child that always succeeded to ease her miseries and make her smile. She bent down to his height and hugged him.

"Hi Alex! How was your day?" She asked her son, removing his head from her shoulder.

"Good. Can we go home? I want to see daddy too!" Alex replied innocently, unaware of the confusion in his mother's mind regarding his father.

"He's staying late at work tonight, sweetie." It pained her to tell her son something that could potentially break his heart.

"Ok. Could we go out to McDonald's for supper then?" he asked optimistically. Alexander lived in Alex World where everything is always fine and dandy. Rinoa knew that one day, Alex would be pulled to the real world and she hoped that that day wouldn't come too soon.

"We'll see. Go get ready to go." She told her son. She watched as he ran down the hall and down the stairs to the cubbyhole that contained all of his stuff.

"He's a great kid." Mrs. Miller told Rinoa, "He never complains or throws fits. How do you do it?"

"Alex is a Mommy's Little Boy. In his mind, his sole purpose in life is to satisfy his mother. At least, that's what it is for the moment. Complaining and throwing fits would dissatisfy his mother and thus he doesn't do it."

"I can see why he'd want to make you happy. You're a very pretty lady."

Rinoa blushed and thanked her for the compliment. Squall told her the same thing everyday before he left but after a while, she started to question whether he truly meant it or not. Today, she wasn't sure she believed anything he told her anymore.

Her son ran up the stairs and hugged his mother, telling her that it was time to leave and go eat supper. They bade Mrs. Miller farewell as they left the daycare strode out the door.

Alex was put safely in the backseat of the car and Rinoa buckled up in the driver's seat. The key was placed in the ignition and the engine started. They backed out of the parking lot and drove away from the daycare.

"So, you want to eat at McDonald's?" Rinoa asked her son.

"Yeah!" he lit up like a candle in the darkness.

They passed a few streets, stopped at a couple red lights and made a few rights before they stopped at a McDonald's. The duo left the car and strolled in, knowing exactly what the other would order.

Rinoa order her son's Happy Meal of chicken Nuggets and a six-piece trio for herself. The word 'trio' got to her mind and made her a touch sadder since Squall was on the upper floors of a windowed building, doing god-knows-what with a chipper young lady.

They took a seat and began to eat, her son marveling in what he thought was perfection taking form in chicken nuggets.

During the moment of silence between her and her son, Rinoa began to think of her life after her mother died. Her relationship with her father was no longer the same once they determined that the metal pole that was stabbed though her mother was for a plan to develop a closet for her.

FOR A FEW weeks after her mother's funeral, Rinoa locked herself once more in her room. Her father was always in his study, drinking his life away with a glass of scotch constantly present in his hand. Nine times out of ten, a bottle of scotch was consumed per night and another bottle was always there for him when he came back home from work.

James Caraway worked from the early hours of the morning to the late hours of the night. He rarely spoke to his daughter and even less of his family life. In truth, his family life was fading faster than it took for him to forget his wife's untimely death. In a couple months, his sixteen-year-old daughter would be graduating from high school- if she should decide to go to school for the rest of the year- and that had not registered yet. He was willingly letting his work life take over his family life.

March Break had just begun and Rinoa was still mourning the loss of her mother. Her figure was frail and she had an unhealthy aura about her. She had not managed to wash herself in the past few days as she wallowed in her misery.

A picture of her mother sat beside her face and her mother's smile radiated healthiness. 'She was so young, it wasn't her time to die.' Rinoa thought, 'Why did you take her away from me?' she continued to think.

She thought back to her early childhood when her mother taught her that women were strong and never gave up, usually obtaining their goals. She taught her that women could burry their tragedy and move on with life. 'Was she wrong? Did she lie to me? No, she didn't. She never lied to dad… Should I still call him dad? He's barely ever around and he pretty much never talks to me except to argue that I need to go to school… What would mom want me to do?' Rinoa thought.

'Get up and clean myself… Stop wallowing in self-pity and move on with my life… Go back to school and get my diploma… That's what she'd want me to do.'

Rinoa picked her body up from her bed and walked into her bathroom joined to her room. She ran the water and took off the clothes that had practically become a second skin to her. She wasn't very attractive at the moment but she would wash it all away and become her normal self again. She had to get back into the swing of things.

The suds were cleansing and inviting to her, almost washing away all of her misery down the drain. The cleanliness it brought with it was refreshing.

She finished her business before exiting the shower and getting dressed. She finished her bathroom ritual before logging onto to her computer.

A few people she knew as her friends greeted her. They asked how she felt to which she responded, "A lot better than I was yesterday." They told her that the long sought after March Break had finally arrived and that they were going to celebrate their freedom at a party to be hosted at Steve Millers' house.

Rinoa thought about it for a few moments before deciding that she would go, a salute to her decision to move on with her life. They told her that they would 'swing by' to pick her up at about seven o'clock. She said her goodbyes and logged off.

Rinoa opened her door and the feel of the air outside hit her like a breath of fresh air. Her room was stuffy and there was no circulation. She set forth towards the kitchen, about to easy the hunger that consumed her stomach.

Her refrigerator was inviting with its shiny finish, almost promising that she'd find something to eat. She pulled the door handle open and took the processed cheese out. She made her way to the breadbox and pulled two pieces of bread out. A grilled cheese sandwich would be the first to be eaten.

The pan was extracted from the cabinet and the burner was heated. 'There is no one home and my father would never know that I left my room', she thought.

'Nothing ever goes to according to plan', a line from a song that usually rang true and today was no exception.

The garage door became active, activated from outside. Someone was home. A car drove into the garage and the engine was shut. A door opened and closed a moment later. Heavy steps sounded on the stairs. The door handle turned and a man entered the house. The sounds of cooking grace his ears. A peculiar sound since the maids had already gone home.

Inside the kitchen, Rinoa froze. She didn't know what to do. She was hungry but she didn't want to see, let alone talk to her father. A dilemma arose: satisfy the hunger and talk to the aloof man or shut everything off, remain hungry and avoid conversation? She could dart through the adjoined dinning room and show room- the room that is pretty much never used- and storm the stairs… Or she could confront what is coming at her.

James Caraway did not allow for Rinoa to carry through with the former as her walked down the hall towards the kitchen. His steps echoed as the bread in the pan crackled. He arrived in the kitchen to see his daughter's face change from confusion to disdain. He knew that she never wanted to speak to him but he was curious why she was suddenly out of her room.

"What's for dinner?" He asked; trying to act like the sight of his daughter outside of her room was an everyday sighting.

"Nothing. I was making a snack." She answered coldly.

"Care to make me one too?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Why are you suddenly out of your room?" He shrugged off her last answer.

"Because I felt it's time to move on. Is that a problem?" she snapped. There was no reason for it but he was irritating her. Shortly after her mother's death, he'd told her that it was all her fault and that it wouldn't have happened had it not been for her. The words still bit her conscience every time they echoed in her head, a rabid dog that fed off her blood.

"No. But are you sure it has nothing to do with the beginning of March Break?" It was a petty shot at her pride but as a father, he was never too sure with her.

"Are you saying that my mother's death was nothing but an excuse to stay out of school?! She means more to me than a PETTY GET-OUT-OF-SCHOOL CARD!" She shouted. Her fuse was blown and she suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. She stormed past her father and upstairs to her room.

She slammed the door behind her, marching towards her desk. She picked up everything she needed for school and her hygiene supplies as well as a few changes of clothes. She packed them into a messenger bag, throwing in her wallet and a few gadgets. She packed the former deep in her bag, surrounded by clothes.

She went over to her bed and knotted her bed sheets together. She tied an end of it and tossed the rest out the window. It landed softly on the grass, waiting for its purpose to be filled out it.

Carefully, she dropped her bag out the window and watched it land safely on the grass. She proceeded out her window and climbed down the bed sheet rope. She landed safely on the ground, picked up her belongings and walked down the street, toward a friend's house.

She would stay there with them until the end of the school year, provided that her father didn't storm over and demand her return to the house. James never did stomp her friend's doors, demanding her return.

The next time she would see her father wouldn't be under healthy conditions.

"MOMMY!" HER SON'S shout pulled her from her reverie. The glazed look that clouded her eyes disappeared and her attention returned to her son.

"Yes, sweetie?" Rinoa asked him.

"You didn't finish your supper. Are you ok?" He asked innocently.

"I'm fine, sweetie. Just digesting. "

"What does digesting mean?"

She would have answered her son had it not been for the fact that at that moment, her cell phone rang. The caller display read, "Squall".

"Hello?" she answered her phone.

"Hi dear. How're you?" Squall asked. A giggle graced Rinoa's ears as background noise.

"I'm fine. How's your friend?" she asked nonchalantly. Inside, it bit her, another dog that would return to feed on her blood.

"Friend? I'm alone." He lied into the phone. Another person shushed the giggling girl. A feminine person shushed the giggling girl.

"Are you sure about that?" She asked, obviously unconvinced. How irked she was managed to remain hidden.

"Of course… Why would you think otherwise? I'm here at work for you." He continued to lie. It irked her that it came so easily for him to lie.

"Right. So what do you want?" she snapped.

"I wanted to check up on my wife, know that she was alright and tell her that I love her."

'Charming,' she thought, 'too bad it didn't work.'

"Sure. Whatever. Your son wants to leave." With that, she clicked the 'off' button and ushered her son out the door. "Where do you want to go know, Alex?"

"Could we go see daddy?" He asked.

'Do I want to see what's going on in that office of his? Have my heart broken in that office of his? Know the truth without the lies?' She questioned herself. Her heart had been broken twice already and was still a bit weak by the last time. It would be broken a third time if she went up there but her sanity would falter if she let it continue. She couldn't afford the later for the sake of her son.

"Sure. We'll go see what daddy's up to."

They got in the car and drove off towards the publishing house. A truth waited for them there.


A/N: So yeah. Just be warned, this is a short story. It'll take a few more chapters before it's done… I'm thinking along the lines of about ten chapters… Maybe even less. Depends on what I feel like doing with it. I've already started to write the second last chapter. Hey! Guess what! I'm babbling. I really don't know what to say.

Anyway, tell me what you think about it and all will be well! (That means review)

P.S: The song was 'Emit Remmus' by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. If you read the title backwards, it says 'summer time'.