Chapter 32: Mommy Fearest

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

13 FEB (Monday) 1989. 1848.

Bubbles had been watching Buttercup closely in the Girls' room. After getting their stitches and after the altercation in the labs that happened after Blossom tattled on Buttercup and told Dad about the latter Girl's sideshow, Bubbles was suspecting her of anything and everything.

And so when Buttercup spent far too much time in the walk-in closet and left it looking the same as before, Bubbles couldn't help but start guessing what Buttercup could be doing inside the walk-in closet.


The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

14 FEB (Tuesday) 1989. 1712.

After Bubbles' horrible accident with her BerXerker power, the professor had been examining her ever since, taking blood samples and doing brain scans. He couldn't find anything out of the ordinary, other than a slight change in brain activity and increase in certain hormones such as dopamine, testosterone, and adrenaline, which he ruled out as side effects of the new ability and the result of it. His working theory was that the BerXerker power was the use of Chemical X to rewire the brain to decrease pain reception, lower inhibition and increase aggression. While not as flashy as Blossom's infrared beam and Buttercup's laser vision, it was no less devastating.

He believed that Bubbles was just trying to get used to her new power. Blossom and Buttercup had both lost control of their powers when they were first discovered. Blossom had hurt Buttercup when she first discovered flight. She had also accidentally burned him when she first discovered her infrared beam. Buttercup had injured Naga when she first discovered her laser vision. Professor Utonium believed that it was no different with Bubbles, and her ability could be controlled with time and practice. The Girls were a hazard not by choice - it wasn't their fault - the unpredictable emergence of their powers was the root cause of all these unfortunate accidents.

He couldn't blame the Girls for the accidents they caused. Especially Bubbles - who would never hurt a fly in any other circumstances.

Later that day, Selicia had gathered the Girls in the living room. This included Buttercup, whose injuries had turned out to be relatively superficial, even if severely so and resulted in a lot of bleeding. The worse of it was the stress fracture around the orbit region of her left eye, which would heal on its own within a day. The woman had a dustpan and broom in one hand, and rags in another. Buttercup looked up at her with a face covered in plasters and gauze and medical tape.

"The three of you will clean the garage," she announced their punishment coldly.

"But why?" Blossom asked.

"Do I have to spell everything out for the three of you?" Selicia snarled at them. The Girls' eyes were turned ground-wards the moment she said it. Selicia didn't need to explain it – each of the Girls knew they were guilty of something, both real and imagined. With Blossom, it was very much imagined, but she believed that it was punishment for getting her sisters injured and telling on Buttercup, effectively betraying her in Selicia's eyes. Bubbles thought she was being punished for going out of control. Buttercup believed that she was being punished for threatening the life of a baby, and actually ending the life of a woman – though she didn't think that she had done anything wrong.

"Yes, Mom…" they said in unison. Blossom took the broom and dustpan while Bubbles and Buttercup each got a rag. With that, they made towards the garage to clean it up.

"Blossom, wait. Stay a moment," Selicia ordered her but both Bubbles and Buttercup stopped and turned as well. "Get going, the two of you." Bubbles and Buttercup disappeared into the garage, Bubbles hesitantly, believing that Blossom was going to get into more trouble than them.

Blossom reluctantly walked up to her Mom, the broom and dustpan, which were taller than her, in her hands.

"Can you hover so I can take a good look at your face?" Selicia ordered again. Blossom put her cleaning instruments down on the floor and did as she was told. She could feel her heart thumping like it was going to rip itself out of her chest. Mom didn't look pleased, and when she reached out for Blossom's face, she flinched, afraid that she was going to hit her again. But it didn't happen. Instead, she was inspecting the stitches on her forehead. Next thing she knew, she was caressing her face lovingly.

"I just wanted to thank you for helping me out with Bubbles," Mom said. "For saving Buttercup."

"She's my sister. They both are," Blossom said, unable to look her Mom in the eyes for fear of offending her somehow. All she could do was to steal glances of her eyes, which Mom noticed anyway.

"And you better remember that, and keep Bubbles under control," Selicia said, perhaps redundantly so - but she knew the truth behind the Girls as their assigned handler. They weren't biologically sisters, and neither was she her biological mother. Selicia thought that perhaps instinctively, Blossom knew that and so it was prudent to remind her. "Now get going and clean up my garage."

Blossom took her leave, but before she disappeared into the garage, she turned around again. "Mom?"

"What is it now?" Selicia said impatiently. To her, Blossom was like a dog - give her a little encouragement, and she'd latch on forever. And then it would be a slippery slope from there. She'd start getting sloppy, take advantage of her love, and shit all over her. It'd all happened before, and Buttercup had suffered for it. There was no way in hell Selicia would let that happen again.

"Will things go back to how it was?" Blossom asked, and dared herself to look Mom in the eye - and at that moment, she found that she still loved her Mom, for everything she had done for her - teaching her everything she knew about fighting hand-to-hand and with firearms and tactics, and things were pretty good between them in January. "I want to hear your stories again, and read books with you in the library."

Selicia stared at her coldly, so much so that Blossom couldn't bear to make eye contact with her anymore.

"We'll see," the Mom said. No, this would not do at all.


The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

14 FEB (Tuesday) 1989. 1731.

While they were in the middle of the cleaning, however, Selicia had pulled Buttercup aside for milk and cookies. Blossom and Bubbles were left behind, and even when they were done with the garage, Selicia had punished them further by getting them to clean the corridor on the second floor. Buttercup, of course, was excused from this. It wouldn't have been so bad, had this trend not continued into the attic, and when they were done and back on the second floor, Selicia did not like the look on their faces and proceeded to knock down a vase and painting and blaming them for it. She then ordered them to clean up the broken glass.

"Dad, Mom is being mean to us!" Blossom complained to her Dad when she decided that things weren't fair. Buttercup had killed and threatened to kill the innocent, and yet she was being punished far less than her and Bubbles. And she'd let the professor know exactly what she thought.

"Oh, Thomas!" Selicia had faked being dainty when she found herself accused of being unfair and abusive. "Look at them – it's such hard work, raising daughters with principles when they're disobeying me at every turn!" She'd made herself look more vulnerable by leaning against the banister of the second-floor corridor as if she had lost most of her strength.

"But you're being selfish! You're a big, fat liar!" Bubbles shouted out of the blue. Even she did not know where it'd come from. Selicia's response to this was to run to the professor for a hug.

"Bubbles!" the professor chided as Selicia was crying in his arms.

"I just want them to be strong and independent and…" Selicia continued to lie. "I know I'm not supposed to expect anything out of the Girls, not even gratefulness…"

"Girls, your mother is just looking out for you!" the professor continued to reprimand the Girls. "And you're treating her like she's the enemy!"

"They just started throwing a tantrum and- look at the mess they made-" Selicia lied, further angering the professor.

"But-" Blossom tried to explain things, only to be interrupted.

"Go to your room, Blossom," the professor ordered, stabbing his finger in the direction of their room. "You too, Bubbles!" With that, the professor brought his 'wife' into his room. She seemed so upset that she could barely walk. Without the professor knowing, she had turned to look at the Girls with a victorious smile. The Girls were taken aback by this. Bubbles was wiping away errant tears from being misunderstood. Blossom wasn't far behind.

Upset, Blossom and Bubbles hovered into their rooms with their backs hunched.

"Why did you have to shout at Mom, Bubbles?" Blossom asked as she stood before Bubbles, who was sitting on the edge of their bed, herself mad at her. "You made us look bad!"

"I couldn't help myself…" Bubbles said. "I'm sorry…"

"What's happening to you, Bubbles?" Blossom asked, more concerned than mad. Bubbles kept quiet, though unsure if she should remain quiet. She didn't want her secret to be found out, and yet at the same time, she knew that something was wrong. She could feel herself changing; it was so much harder to keep her anger inside now.

"I'm sorry," Bubbles simply said. Blossom gave her a quizzical look, unsure of what to make of her sister's response.

"Does it have something to do with your new power?" Blossom asked. Bubbles considered her question carefully, where before, she would have answered it thoughtlessly.

Bubbles nodded, deciding that it wouldn't reveal her dirty little secret.


The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

14 FEB (Tuesday) 1989. 2045.

Ever since the incident with Selicia, the professor had enforced Blossom and Bubbles' grounding throughout the entire day. By the evening, however, he was beginning to feel bad about what he'd done. Sure, the Girls had been rude to Selicia, with Blossom talking back when she didn't need to and Bubbles shouting at her, but they were little girls, after all, who needed adult guidance.

In fact, he thought that he had been too harsh, grounding them for an entire day right after Selicia's house chores. He was self-aware enough to know that his love for Selicia had blinded him to the severity of his punishment. Ever since falling in love with Selicia – genuinely – she had that effect on him. He knew that he himself had to make amends for it, and to this end, he'd made them hot chocolate with marshmallows and cookies. He'd brought supper up to the Girls himself.

When he entered the Girls' room, Blossom was reading a kid's encyclopedia while sitting in a beanbag, not out of curiosity or the need to know, but as a diversion from her unjust grounding and Bubbles' problem. Bubbles, on the other hand, was lying in bed in a fetal position, holding Octi closely, mumbling to herself. Buttercup was missing in the room. Selicia had made sure that she stayed away. They had been watching the television in the living room ever since, their laughter sometimes loud enough for Blossom and Bubbles to hear as if to spite them further.

"Girls, I've brought supper," the professor announced to his adopted daughters. He set it down on the Girls' kiddy table. Blossom put down her encyclopedia and came over to sit down, unable to look at her own father. The professor found that he could never get used to it. Where had last month gone? There was never a need to lecture his Girls nor punish them before crime started spiking again. "Bubbles?"

"I don't feel like eating…" Bubbles muttered, before going back to whispering to herself again. Ever since calming down from her third dose of His Secret 2.0, she had been feeling terrible. While she was under its influence, she had no fear, no worries, and no pain. Without it, she couldn't help but be frightened of everything - even her sisters, her Dad, and Mom - and she couldn't help but feel insecure, as if her secret was just a word or action away from being exposed. She hadn't felt hungry at all since lunch - she had eaten little during dinner and she wasn't lying about her appetite during supper. It felt as if her insides were rearranging itself, and it was as uncomfortable and painful as it sounded.

"Bubbles? I know you feel bad about what you did, but you don't have to starve yourself," the professor assumed. Coming up to her, he lifted her up into a sitting position. Sweat was pouring down her face. She looked pale. "Goodness… Are you ill?"

"No… You're right, Dad. I just feel really bad about what I did. I didn't mean to hurt Buttercup and shout at Mom," Bubbles said, not entirely lying. "I'm sorry…"

"Maybe some chocolate and marshmallows might help?" the professor suggested. Bubbles smiled. Through the hardship she was suffering through, she knew that her Dad was always someone she could trust in every way - to do the right thing and make her feel better. She hovered towards the kiddy table and sat herself down beside Blossom. The professor followed.

"Dad, why does Buttercup get to do whatever she wants even though she's wrong?" Blossom asked while taking a nibble out of her cookie.

"That's not it, Blossom. She doesn't get to do whatever she wants," the professor said. "I know how it looks like, but that's not what it is."

"What she did was terrible, and Mom did nothing about it," Blossom added further. "She punishes us for everything."

The professor considered her words. He knew exactly why there was a disparity in Selicia's response to the different Girls, or at least he thought so. He certainly knew that he was treating the Girls differently - according to what they needed. But he loved them equally, or did he? Buttercup was a special case - he would certainly let her know what she had done wrong – in fact, he would certainly really let her know what she had done wrong. But her condition had ensured that the tomboy would never fully understand the consequences of her actions such that she had to decide what to do based on cold logic alone, and when that cold logic involved pleasure from behavior with moral implications lost on her...

'Should I tell them?' the professor thought. He had been keeping too many secrets from the Girls for too long. There wasn't a single day that went by without him thinking about his secrets. 'Should I?'

"Blossom, Bubbles, I need the two of you to listen to me," the professor said, and found that he couldn't breathe. He had to sit down on a kiddy stool and work up the courage to continue. "You see, Girls, Buttercup… She's not like the two of you."

"What do you mean?" Bubbles asked.

"She's, well, not right in the head. Remember what I told you two about sickness?" the professor struggled to find an analogy that a young child could understand. "Remember when the three of you got sick after chasing those crooks on the highway?"

"Yes…" the Girls said in unison.

"Well, that's Buttercup inside. She's just… messed up," the professor said - there was no other way of saying it at that given moment. Undignified and ugly as it sounded, it was the truth. "She doesn't know what's right and what's wrong because she's sick inside. She couldn't feel as much as the two of you because of it."

"But when was she sick?" Bubbles asked.

"Since the beginning, when she was born," the professor said, careful not to let slip the other secrets. He'd nearly mentioned 'created' instead. With the Girls' photographic memory, a mere mention of that word would have become a time bomb waiting to explode.

"Does that mean she doesn't love us?" Blossom asked, looking incredibly upset. She'd stopped eating. The professor was caught off-guard by that question. Blossom was incredibly smart - perhaps even smarter than he was - just that she was really young. He thought that it was just as much a curse as it was a blessing. He knew that from personal experience. "She never did, did she?"

"Oh, honey, I…" the professor struggled to find the appropriate response, deciding between the whole truth, the half or the lie. But he'd been keeping so many secrets, and it was killing him little by little each day. Each day she looked at his Girls, smiling innocently and naively believing him to be perfect, he felt that he had lost a bit of himself. It was like getting cut up into a million pieces.

"No, she never really did," the professor said. No more new secrets - he had decided. "But it's not her fault and… It's not entirely hopeless. You see, there's a connection between the three of you. Blossom, Bubbles… Buttercup does not - could not - feel the same way as the two of you, which is why the two of you need to love her more. She'll come around and understand."

It was a simplistic way of explaining things, and the only way the Girls would understand. Throwing psychiatric and scientific terms at them would be useless, that much he knew.

What the professor did not know, however, was that Buttercup had been listening all along, ever since she saw him walking towards the Girls' room from the living room. With her acute sense of hearing, she could listen in on them even from the washroom down the corridor from the Girls' room, where she had been 'using the toilet' since a few minutes ago, according to the lie she told her Mom.


The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

14 FEB (Tuesday) 1989. 2243.

Bubbles had shut herself in the washroom so the others wouldn't see. She was in her pajamas. There were spots of perspiration on it even though the washroom was colder than other rooms – the heater couldn't reach it as well as the other rooms.

Hovering in front of the mirror, she saw that she was sweating profusely, and it wasn't because she was terrified of being found out. Instinctively, she knew that it was the drug's fault. Without it, she was a mess, and the more she used it, the more she grew to become dependent on it. It'd made her desire the magic more – the symptoms were pushing her, and the addictive attraction of the magic was pulling her deeper into it.

Her Dad's words had stuck with her ever since. Although it was a revelation of Buttercup's severe psychopathy, she couldn't help but think that it had something to do with her as well. Buttercup was sick inside, and she couldn't help but feel that she was sick inside too. And she couldn't stop it. She didn't want to.

Turning on the faucet, she splashed some water on her face, washing it before drying herself. After that, she picked up the syringe she'd left on the washing basin. She found it surprising that she was any good at it – smuggling the syringe from her gear into the washroom while her sisters were in bed. But she'd put it down to the dim lighting as only a table lamp was switched on and Blossom and Buttercup weren't looking at her.

Bubbles stared at the syringe. 'His Secret' was written on the metal tube. There was no '2.0' for some reason. Unsheathing the needle and after she palpitated her arm for a vein, she jabbed herself with it, only for the needle to bend then snap in two. It wasn't made for her. It wasn't Duranium.

The little addict started breathing heavily. She needed it and badly. Desperate, she inserted the broken syringe into her mouth and depressed the plunger, swallowing the chemical mixture thirstily like a girl in a desert who'd encountered water for the first time in days.

The taste was terrible. Bitter, acidic and foul. Wrong. Then Bubbles just stood there, waiting for the effects to kick in… but it wouldn't. She continued waiting expectantly, but as minutes passed, all she could feel was a tingle in her fingertips. There was barely anything at all – her stomach had stopped hurting – mostly, and she was sweating less, but that was about it.

As it turned out, the drug she had stolen from the cult's compound was different. Weaker. And it certainly wasn't enough.

Bubbles felt panic rising in her as a result. What she stole from the cult was supposed to be her next fix. She needed more. More!

And yet she knew there was no more. Bubbles clutched her head, pulling at her hair. It felt as if the fairy godmother had abandoned her, in this dire time of need.

"Bubbles?" a muffled voice came from the other side of the door. It was Blossom. Shock surged through Bubbles when she realized that she was holding incriminating evidence of her drug addiction in her hands. Looking all over the washroom, she searched the place for a good spot to hide her shame and wrongdoing. "What's taking you so long? You need to sleep or it'd be hard to study in school tomorrow."

Every time Bubbles thought she had found the perfect place to hide her syringe, she could think of how Blossom could find it – in what scenario and circumstance.

"Bubbles? Are you okay?" Blossom was knocking on the door harder, sounding more urgent and afraid. But at least she didn't sound angry or upset. "Bubbles!"

After hiding her syringe in a drawer, Bubbles rushed to open the door. Blossom sounded like she was going to knock the door down. She didn't need her entire family in the washroom. The chance of them finding her secret would be too great.

"I'm sorry, Blossom," Bubbles apologized after opening the door. "I was just tired…"


The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

14 FEB (Tuesday) 1989. 2359.

Bubbles hadn't been able to sleep, as she couldn't decide between whether she felt hot or cold. What little drinking the syringe of His Secret had achieved had all been reversed by time. She was sweating again, and she could feel her hands convulsing and her insides churning.

At that point, she was all but convinced that the fairy godmother was done with her, and she would be stuck feeling this way for the rest of her life. She'd believed this until she saw white light under her door again. Switching off the table lamp beside her, Bubbles hovered out of bed and got out of her room – she didn't look back at all, not like last time.

Same as before, when she was at the corridor outside her room, the same white light had migrated to the stairs. Passing by Dad's room, however, she couldn't help but wonder if she should stay with Daddy after all. She'd do that all the time whenever she was feeling terrible.

But this time, she knew that the terrible feeling in her wouldn't go away until she injected herself with more of the fairy godmother's magic. It was the only way. Besides, Buttercup had occupied Dad's room. She had utterly refused to sleep in the same room as her because of what she did.

With nothing left for her, she flew down to ground level. There, she saw the white light outside, same place as before: in the backyard.

And so she followed.

"Hello again, Bubbles," the fairy godmother greeted her the moment she came close, and this time, she'd come really close really fast as she was in desperate need of more substance.

"Miss Fairy Godmother!" Bubbles whispered urgently, still afraid of talking too loudly and being discovered with the fairy godmother. "I need more of it, please! I need it!"

"More of what?" the fairy godmother asked, acting naïve. Bubbles found her behavior strange. It didn't seem… mature enough for her age.

"Your magic! I need it badly!" Bubbles said.

"Oh, that. My magic. Of course," the fairy godmother continued to behave strangely. It was disconcerting to Bubbles, finding her lifeline being erratic like this.

"Give it to me, now! Please!" Bubbles was flat out demanding for it.

"Well, there's just one problem…" the fairy godmother said slyly.

"What is it!?" Bubbles howled in agony.

"I forgot to bring it with me, and it'd be a few days before I can return," the fairy godmother said with a mischievous smile.

"What!?" Bubbles screamed in disbelief - it was agony that she was doing this quietly if there was such a thing as screaming quietly. Whoever had heard of a fairy godmother who forgets things? "I can't live without your magic! Why are you doing this to me!?"

For some reason, the fairy godmother laughed when she heard this. It'd made Bubbles upset. And mad. But mostly upset. Unknown to her, her eyes had flashed red for a brief moment when hatred surged in her heart.

"Calm down, Bubbles," the fairy godmother said, infuriating Bubbles further. But then she'd reached into her dark blue shoulder bag. Bubbles then noticed that the bulge in it was more noticeable. "I was just kidding, god-daughter… yes… yes… where's your sense of humor?"

"I… I'm sorry," Bubbles apologized, remembering quickly that she was talking to her only source of His Secret 2.0. "I was feeling terrible."

"Don't worry, dear. All is forgiven," the fairy godmother said. For some reason, the tone of her voice had taken a sinister turn, though it was still wizen and motherly. The winged angel-like being pulled her hand out. Barely contained in her clutch were six more pouches containing the drug. Six! Bubbles was overjoyed!

So overjoyed was Bubbles, in fact, that she'd dropped the whole lot immediately upon receiving them to inject herself with one of them.

The fairy godmother did not stop her. Instead, all she did was to smile at the pathetic little addict, looking down at her like a dog as the little girl was feverishly doping herself with another dose of her 'magic'.

And when Bubbles finally got her fix, she could feel it melting away in her veins, like finely-cooked mutton in her mouth. Her discomfort and pain fell away like old memories. She blinked, and her eyes felt heavy. Yet something was wrong. The feeling wasn't as strong as before. The pleasure she felt from it wasn't as strong as before. The feeling of invulnerability and the rage - they were weaker. It wouldn't do - had she taken the magic during crime-fighting, it wouldn't have given her what she needed to get the job done, and maintain the love and respect between her and her sisters.

Yet, how much love and respect was there now? She had beaten Buttercup black-and-blue and red, and Blossom had seen it. Buttercup would never respect that and she had a feeling Blossom wouldn't love her for it.

"Miss Fairy Godmother, it's not enough- one's not enough," Bubbles said as she was still on the ground, on her knees. There was little pleasure to be had, and so she was savoring what little she could gather.

"Oh, that's normal. Yes… yes… The more you use it, the less powerful it becomes," the fairy godmother said as she ran her hand through her hair, stroking it as if she was stroking a pet.

"What do I do? I can't go on like this…" Bubbles said, even as she let herself feel every tiny bit of caressing from the drug, gasping with every little tingle and smooth sensation. It wouldn't last, and so she tried to make every little feeling last.

"But you can go on like this. You just have to take more than one… yes… yes…" the fairy godmother suggested.

"I have to take more than one…" Bubbles repeated her benefactor's words, and she liked the sound of it. "I have to take more than one." She reached for another pouch containing a syringe, only for the fairy godmother to bend down and grab her wrist.

"Just not now. One should be enough… to put you to sleep… yes… yes…" she said with an evil smile, knowing that Bubbles' senses were too badly affected for her to judge her character at all. "By the way, remember rule #4?"

"I have to do everything you ask of me," Bubbles recalled the rule as she stared into the distance.

"Yes, and I have something for you to do…" the fairy godmother said menacingly. "A little something to repay my selfless generosity."