After he's filled in by Gingie, a smirk appears on Jay-Todd's face. "So did Bruce clean up the puke?"

He appears. "Alfred heard our talk and he supervised while I did, indeed, do the cleaning you, Babs, rightfully said I should do. Phoenix?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. Aren't you hot in that hoodie?"

I breathe out slowly then take it off and, after tying it around my waist, roll up my sleeves so my burn scarred shoulders show. "Happy? Or should I show you the ones on my back too? What can I say, that fucking bastard really liked fire."

"Phoenix, I can assure you that seeing these does not make me happy. If anything, it makes me want to do everything in my power to make sure he never gets his hands on you again."

I put my sleeves back down. "You'd do that for me? But you're a billionaire and I'm nobody."

He gets down so he's eye level with me then takes my hands in his. "Phoenix. Never say that again, do you hear me? You are not nobody and you'll never have to be ever again. Life starts now."

I raise one eyebrow. "You listen to Three Days Grace?" A grin spreads across my face. "I always liked that track."

"It's a song?"

I take my hands from his and he gets up. "Really?"

Jay-Todd rolls his eyes. "Yeah, really? Geez, Bruce, it's a whole fucking album with the title track you mentioned being the last one. Adam Gontier's pretty awesome. Though that's really beside the point."

Using his right hand, he gently rolls my sleeves back up so the scars are visible again. "You got these pretty recently, didn't you, Nyx?"

My eyes darken. "Yeah, they date back to three days before I first met you."

His eyes widen.

I breathe out slowly. "I fucking hated them at first but now I think of them as the burns I got from going through hell. Makes me hate them a little less."

"Firecracker, what about the ones on your back?"

"Those came earlier. I "didn't do my chores right" so he used an..." I shake away the memory threatening to come.

"That fucking bastard used an iron, didn't he?"

I don't nod, I just pull up my shirt and show him.

"There's cigarette burns here too."

I put my shirt back down. "Yeah, those would be from Mrs. Pierce for "being a little bitch who led her man on". Never did find out what kid they were and I can't say I really give a shit anyway. I just know it hurt and they laughed when I screamed. When they fell asleep, I treated them as best I could with a cold washcloth. Did that with all my burns, really."

"I trust the washcloth was clean?"

I barely keep from startling then snort. "Please. They'd have noticed a clean one, even though I was the one doing the laundry. As for trying to heal them with my power...It hurt so I stopped, afraid I was somehow healing them wrong."

"You've been through rather a lot, haven't you, miss?" He puts his hand on my right shoulder. "However, you've made it through and no one can take that from you."

I fidget, starting to feel slightly uncomfortable. "That's nice and all, Jeeves, but it seems kinda funny coming from a Brit. I mean, you guys are known for your stiff upper lips. Sodding bollocks, govna."

He removes his hand from my shoulder then sniffs. "Such language!"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Bad form or some shit. I didn't grow up in England, so all I know about it comes from literature. Dickens, mostly, which probably means said knowledge is antiquated. Well, I do know some about it that's not from literature and..."

I scuff. "Brexit is still a sore subject, I'm guessing?"

Alfred looks askance at me. "I may be from a people that "keep calm and carry on" but I have my limits. That is all I am going to say regarding the subject of Brexit. I'll leave videos on that matter to another of my countrymen."

He watches John Oliver?

I do my best impression of him. "Holy shit!"

Alfred chuckles. "That is how he'd put it, in his way, sounding rather like a Brummie who can't make up his mind."

I shrug one shoulder. "Hey, now. Tolkien was a Brummie. If Joliver, as we Brooklyners call him, in our way, is one then he's in good company.*"

"You do tend to smoosh words together, Phoenix."

I snort. "That's part of Brooklynese which, since you don't seem to know, is a unique blend of three languages." I count on my fingers for emphasis. "Irish, Italian and Yiddish."

"Hell of a blend, Nyx."

My grin widens. "Yes."

I shake one finger. "And don't any of youse forget it."

Well, the Brooklyn in my voice certainly came on strong when I said that. Not like I mind but it usually comes on that strong when I'm angry.

I rub my arms as I remember trying to defend myself against Mrs. Pierce's allegation that I "led her man on" and how I kept getting angrier and angrier because, no matter what I said, she wouldn't listen. It culminated with me getting those cigarette burns and, afterwards, getting locked in the basement, with no light, for about an hour and a half.

Needless to say, attempts to port out did not work.

God, I hate remembering those days with the Pierces.

Now, you're prolly wondering about my birth parents.

My Mom, if she can be called that, never seemed to notice me.

Dad, on the other hand, well, he wasn't home all that much. He was a workaholic and, looking back, I'm pretty sure he was having an affair.

To answer the question I'm sure you're gonna ask next, neither of them, as far as I know, were Metas. I don't have a fucking clue where my powers came from but when I showed them to my parents, Mom seemed scared and Dad seemed almost embarrassed somehow.

As I'm sure you can imagine, both reactions made me feel like I'd done something wrong. Almost like I should feel ashamed.

So, as you might expect, I kept my powers a secret.

I sure as hell didn't show them to the Pierces. I don't even want to think about what they would have done!

Though I did picture them making me heal for money. Money I wouldn't get a cent of. Money used so they can live in the lap of luxury while I, on the other hand, continue getting treated like I'm nothing more than a stone in their shoes.

Not like anyone would notice. They're good at covering their shit, I'll give them that.

Now, as for siblings, this is my first time having any. I always pictured myself having brothers, particularly older ones who'd look out for me.

Girls always gave me shit. I never really felt like I fit in with them.

I could talk music with guys, at least the ones that didn't call me a poser. Leave me feeling like I could not and would never measure up, just because I'm a girl.

A girl who absolutely fucking hated it when they'd use the word pussy. The type assholes would call mouthy when, since I always felt silenced with the Pierces, all I felt I was trying to do was find my voice.

The crap I got for being a foster isn't something I'm gonna mention, so don't even ask.

Yes, you'd be right in guessing I didn't really like school. I mean, it wasn't all bad but it mostly sucked.

I'd say I looked forward to going back but that would be a lie. I'd get punished by the Pierces for lying, so I'm pretty truthful, though, if necessary, I'd lie about my powers.

Kinda feels weird having my new fam be so accepting of them. Like it doesn't change how they see me.

I do like it but part of me feels a little suspicious of how nice they are. Like I shouldn't get comfortable enough to let my guard down.

At least not completely. Not yet.

*Yes, he is.