A/N: Apparently, I have a lot of time on my hands. Here is yet another story. A tad short, yes.

Well, I wanted to break off from my usual javajunkie-ness and write something new. Here's a one-shot about Liz.

My life has never been really easy. My mom died when I was twelve, and looking back I see that I didn't take it too well. In my grief, I immediately threw myself into 'the bad crowd'. In junior high, I started wearing less clothes and more make-up. My dad, busy with grief of his own, didn't pay too much attention. The change was so gradual, I hardly noticed it myself.

Luke noticed it, though.

In high school, I went from following the trends to setting them. I did drugs and stayed out late, drinking at parties. I got horrible grades and barely graduated. By then, I had dated every boy in the district. But back then, I didn't care. I didn't think about the future. People were paying attention to me, and that's exactly what I wanted.

Right after graduation, I pulled out my already-packed suitcase from the back of my closet and my train ticket from under my mattress. I left a hastily written note on the fridge and left to get myself a better life.

And no matter what Luke says, I did care that my dad was sick. But I this feeling, you know? A gut thing. I knew that he wasn't gonna make it; that I couldn't do anything. I didn't want to go through the awfulness again, so I bolted.

I didn't want to be there when he died.

Up in New York, I rented a miniscule apartment in what most would call the 'bad part of town'. I did tend to end up in bad places. I finally met a guy who I actually liked. Who liked me for me and not my body. I thought this was it; that he was the one. Soon enough, I was pregnant. I swore to myself that I wouldn't let my kid end up like me. I swore I'd keep him on the right track.

Surprisingly, Jimmy stuck around. I thought for sure he would've run for the hills. Or the beach, in his case. He'd always loved the beach. But he stayed. I was overjoyed. I thought my kid would have two parents and a good home.

When Luke drove all the way up from Stars Hollow for the delivery, he told me dad wasn't doing so well. He said I didn't have too long and that I should go visit. I refused.

But I did name my son Jesse William.

The day after Jess was born, Jimmy offered to go pick up some diapers. Luke volunteered to drive me home. Once Jess was asleep, Luke and I sat on the beat-up couch in my tiny living room/kitchen/bedroom combo.

"You should come home, Liz. Dad wants to see you. Jess too."

"No, Luke. Just…no."

And we sat on that couch, silently. Hours later, we hadn't moved. I didn't want to admit to myself what I already knew.

Jimmy wasn't coming back.

So I stayed up through the night, long after Luke fell asleep next to me. I wanted so bad to be wrong; for the door to open and Jimmy to come in, bearing an excuse like '134th was jammed. I was parked on that street for hours'.

But he didn't.

I sat patiently through Luke's rant about what a scumbag Jimmy was. After he'd calmed down, he'd said he had to go. And with a hug and a "Good luck with the kid", he was gone.

And I was alone.

The next day, Luke called to tell me dad had died.

My son didn't have two parents like I thought he would. He barely had one. I worked as a secretary in a tiny office down the street during the day, and a waitress at the greasy diner next door at night. A chunk of my money went to the lady next door who watched Jess during the day. The rest went towards kid stuff. Who knew a baby used so many diapers?

Preschool changed things up. Less money went to the neighbor, but more went towards cabs to get Jess to and from school. We barely got by. I got notes from his teacher saying that 'Jess didn't cooperate with the other children' and that 'Jess didn't participate'.

I threw them away.

Jess was a latchkey kid in elementary school. I only had one job then. The little office down the street gave me a promotion. And that meant more money.

Soon, I began to date again. After a few duds, I hooked up with James, a clerk at the bookstore I frequently visited picking up books for Jess. He was nice, and we got pretty close.

I still got notes from Jess' teacher, saying he was 'anti-social' and 'rebellious'.

I still threw them away.

James was around my place more often. He stuff began to migrate to my house, and he eventually moved in. That's when the hitting started.

At first it wasn't much. A slap across the face, a whack on the back of the head. But it got worse. Punching, kicking. I wore long sleeves every day and sometimes sunglasses. I used make-up to cover the bruises on my face.

Then he started to hit Jess.

That's when I knew he had to go. I took a day off and boxed our things while he was at work. I packed everything into a u-haul and moved across town. Jess changed schools.

I swore off men.

I started making jewelry in my spare time. Earrings, necklaces. Nothing too fancy. I couldn't afford to make anything fancy.

In high school, Jess started staying out later and later. On rare occasion, he didn't come home at all.

He thought I didn't care. He thought I didn't worry.

I did.

But I couldn't handle it. I couldn't be a mom. I had no idea how. I never had one myself.

So I sent him to the one person I had left; the person who looked after me like a mother.

I sent him to Luke.

Without a kid, I wasn't as tied down. I went full out with making jewelry. I joined the Renaissance group so could sell my jewelry. I finally had money.

Then I met T.J.

Now, most say he's odd and/or crazy. But he loves me. And I love him. He makes me happy; all warm and fuzzy. I haven't felt that way in a long, long time. And you know what?

I like being happy. I like it a lot.

Hmmm… funky ending, but otherwise I think it turned out pretty damn good. Review! Pretty please with a bright, red, shiny cherry on top!