So I spent one last night in town, and since you guys were so great with the reviews, here's your chapter! I'll be back Thursday night.

Ch. 11

Almost as soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, I dropped my bright smile, feeling the hot tears streak down my face.

I stared at my increasingly unattractive reflection and tried to figure out where I'd gone wrong. For the past few years, things have been pretty all right. Nothing special, but nothing extremely horrific. I thought I was over my teenage screw-up days, where every little incident inspired pages and pages of frantic scribbling.

But ever since I got back in touch with Michael, everything has just been one gigantic trauma after another.

I don't know what it is about that skinny Jewish boy that transforms me into such a complete mess. It wasn't so much of a problem when we weredating, because he was using his powers for good, not evil. Though I don't think convincing me to shed my clothes with him in the bathroom of my 17th birthday ball is an entirely sinless action.

Sure, I did some mortifying things with Michael while we were together, but I didn't react the way I normally would've because I had him on my side. That just made everything…better. Sweeter, really.

Leaving Michael was definitely the hardest thing I've ever done. They say giving birth is painful? Obviously not many people have ever bid farewell to those moist eyes and beautifully chapped lips.

But once I got to Genovia…once there was no one propping me up and 'kissing it better,' I became way stronger. Emotionally, at least. The lack of Michael proved good! I didn't need him and I didn't need normalcy…I could just assume the role of crown princess all by myself.

At least that's what I thought until it all came back to bite me in the ass.

Now I'm stuck feeling awful because I left and awful because they think I didn't care and really, really awful because now they don't care.

Is there any difference between independence and loneliness?

I peeled off my tank top slowly, trying and failing to extinguish the well of tears pouring out of my eyes.

I just…I thought I had everything figured out and in its place. I don't need this. It's not that I don't love Olivia and…and Olivia. I just can't grasp the fact that she doesn't love me. I loved my mother! And I hardly ever saw my dad, but I loved him just as much.

As I undid the knot of my bikini, I realized Sebastiano was fully right. Except for the part about Olivia growing to love me. That's obviously not going to happen. I mean, if someone just leaped into my life, insisting that I move to another country and rule over fifty thousand strangers, I wouldn't exactly rush into their arms either.

I dragged my fingers along under my eyes, wiping away the tears. Okay, so I'm not going to beg for Olivia's function any more. I'll just…I'll try and be harmless. Because I swear I can't take any more—

AUGHHHHHHHHHHH!

Michael stood in the open doorway, gaping at me. I was most likely reciprocating the look, though Michael wasn't the shirtless one.

"I was gonna…I was coming to see if you were all right."

I hugged myself tightly, shielding my body from his wide eyes. Not that he hasn't seen anything…he just doesn't get that privilege any more.

"Of course I'm all right," I snapped. "Why wouldn't I be all right?"

"Well, you look fine now," said Michael tiredly, though his eyes gave the words another meaning.

"Just…leave!" I squeaked, taking a few steps back.

He composed himself, turned eighteen shades of red, and promptly left.

Ugh, I was so right about Michael being the instigator of every horrendous event in my life. Or at least he fuels the awfulness.

Later that night, I shifted uncomfortably on the couch, cursing myself for ever giving up the bedroom to Michael. He doesn't deserve the bed, especially after the hell he gave me today. And you know what he's probably doing in that nice, comfortable bed? Getting off to the image of a bare-chested Princess Amelia in the bathroom.

I'm being ridiculous. There is nothing about me that Michael finds attractive. Isn't that weird? My gawky, flat-chested, huge-footed, Amazonian teenage girl style made him totally hot and bothered.

And now? Nada. Michael probably just sits at home all day and eats paste and watches Zoboomafoo with Olivia. Does he even have a job? Go out on dates?

HOLY SHIT! Of course he dates! He's probably got a different lady over at the apartment every night. Or, even worse, a serious girlfriend! And Olivia loves her and wants Cynthia or Tiffany or whoever to be her new mommy. And they'll all come to my funeral—one big, happy family—and just laugh their asses off. Or, as Michael would say, "hineys."

Speaking of which, Mr. Rogers himself just traipsed out into the darkened living room, sans the cardigan. Sans any sort of shirt at all. Still doesn't make up for earlier.

Okay…maybe a little.

"You awake?" he whispered, perching on the edge of the coffee table.

"No," I said insolently—and stupidly.

"Mia, I wanna talk." He drummed his fingers along the wooden surface. "Are you all right? Earlier, when…well, when I…uh…happened upon you in the bathroom, I only came 'cuz…'cuz I heard you crying."

How is it that he can be the Anti-Christ one moment and all sweetness and kindness the next?

"I don't want to talk," I said coldly, rolling over to where my back was facing him.

"We need to talk," insisted Michael. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I don't think this is working out."

I elected to play dumb. "What do you mean?"

"She's not happy. She's not going to adjust to this, Mia. It was different for you. You were older. So…I guess we can try again lat—"

"NO!" I cried, whirling my head around so fast that I pulled a muscle. "No," I said more quietly, massaging my neck. "That's not how it goes, Michael. This is it. I've told her and now she's going to come back to Genovia and she's going to learn how to be a princess. I mean, it's not going to be long before this leaks to the press. It's a miracle they never found out about Olivia anyway."

"You left," pointed out Michael for the gazillionth time. "You have no say-so over what she does. You gave up. I stayed. I took care of Olivia. She's not your daughter."

I stiffened, chewing furiously on my lip. What could I say to that? He's got an argument against his cheating. How can I explain my departure? Especially without telling him that I don't recall ever falling out of love with him. "Biologically…she is. And…and that's what matters."

"No, it doesn't. What's wrong with you, Mia? You would've never been spewing this shit when I knew you."

"So you don't know me now?"

"We're briefly acquainted," he smirked. "Or rather, I became acquainted with your back when you walked out."

"Don't act like you're so fucking innocent," I snapped. All gloves are off. "No matter what you think I did or said or felt…I would've never ever cheated on you. So maybe I'm the one with a sense of decency."

Instead of arguing back, as he was wont to do lately, he simply hung his head.

"There are rules," I tried to explain. "What else can I do, Michael? You know I would've never inconvenienced you like this if I didn't have to."

He was the one whispering now. "I know."

An awkward silence fell over the room for a few seconds before Michael cleared his throat. "Look, what do you want me to do? I'm not forcing her into anything she doesn't want. You've seen her. She hates this whole idea."

"That's because she's doing what you tell her! First she grew up not knowing me and now she's being taught to despise every fiber of my being? Christ, Michael, let her make her own decisions. I don't think letting her get to know her own mother would be the worst parenting choice you could make."

"I can't help it if she looks up to me," he said haughtily. "I raised her. We have a lot of the same opinions."

I quickly changed strategies. "Michael, there's no way out of this. Opinions or not, she's going to be the princess of Genovia. I'm going to be in her life. It might be the teensiest bit easier for her if you didn't pass on your hatred for me to her. Just…just try and help me out a bit?"

Michael looked at me with something like pity. "I can try, I guess."

He didn't used to have to try.

Hopefully I'll have some nice reviews when I get back. Toss in a few mean ones if you must.