So as I explained in my AN for 50 Ways to Annoy Iggy: THE STORY, (if any of you have read it yet), I'm perfectly aware of how scummy I am for not updating, like ever. Senior year kicked my butt, BUT yesterday was my last day and in honor of having nothing to do on my technical day of sum, (I'm sick with a sinus infection and it's been total crap weather out), I figured the best way to entertain myself would be to start writing again. And I hope that benefits you all as well! I'm going in order of what was updated least recently, which is basically how I tend to do it.
Zach: I say you update based on popularity!
Abby: If that happened, it'd be a close tie, these three stories are my three most popular! And people really want the sequel to Spies, Mutants, and Chatrooms OH MY! So can it, meat face, I have my methods.

Anyway, I'll get to it, please enjoy!

MAX POV

A crumpled piece of notebook paper was slammed into the floor among what seemed like hundreds of other ruined dreams tossed away by angry fists. I pushed my chewed Abbey Road guitar pic from the inside of my cheek and slid it into my fingers before pushing it between the E, A, and D strings of Delilah, my marbled Ibanez acoustic.

When Fang and I returned home from our trip, he had been right; I did feel more relaxed. I felt ready to take on my task of writing, whether that be for my book or for the CD. I've been keeping a journal lately based on my adventures as a rebellious dying kid, so I figured these songs were the Sistine Chapel and I held the paintbrush.

Opening up my notebook again, I reached for my favorite Eeyore pen that I bought from Disney as a kid and prepared for inspiration to ebb and flow through me. But the thing with inspiration is it's best received as a gift of experience and feeling in the present, not as a memory.

Come on, Max, think, there's got to be something that causes you some sort of emotion! You feel so much pain every day and hardly even Fang knows it. THINK.

That's when it hit me like "Sugar" Ramos in '63.

"To all the wounded daughters, drowned in lonely waters, yell back at all the reasons gone by like wilted seasons. Although they are not roses, the petals still fall down. The thorns no longer hurt you, now they are my crown."

Flashback.

Today is my third birthday and nobody remembered. I had it marked up on my calendar, though! Momma always said I was one smart cookie. I do love my Momma. I love my Daddy, too, but sometimes he does mean things and Momma won't tell me why. She just says he loves us very much, he just forgets to show it sometimes. I wonder how he forgets and I think it's silly.

I peer up through the back window of the nice lady's car and watch the alternating flashing of the red and blue lights on top of the black and white cars that looked like the movies. Like police men their Oxford shoe-police cars, only in front of my house and not at a prison. Not to mention police men only arrest the villains and when the nice lady took me from my house there were no masked men with gallantly flowing capes and sparkling silver swords attacking their heroic enemies anywhere in sight.

The nice lady had told me to cover my ears, and I thought it was to hide Momma's sad screams from all of Daddy's mean. Maybe I couldn't hear the villain over Momma. I just hope the villain wasn't hurting her because I love my Momma very much and I don't like to see her cry.

I watch the nice lady come back to her car as light rain starts to fall on the dying grass on my front lawn. She opens the door on the side of the car I am sitting.

"Maximum, honey, my name is Amanda. Don't you fret, okay? Everything is gonna be alright. Do you know what's happening inside? Your nice neighbor Elsa called us because she heard your mommy. Do you know what's happening to your mommy?" She looks at me with big, sad eyes and I shake my head grabbing the little stuffed rabbit off of the seat next to me. She looks back at the house as a police man leaves the open front door.

"Where did you get those bruises on your cheek sweetie? Are those from your daddy?" I lift my hand on to where my cheek had hurt for the past few days and nodded my head slowly. I don't want to get my Daddy in trouble, not with these police men here.

"But Daddy didn't mean to be mean, Mommy said so. Mommy told me Daddy loves us, he just forgets how to show it sometimes. It's okay, I get it, I'm one smart cookie," I say, puffing my chest out.

Suddenly I hear two muffled bangs, louder than anything I had ever heard in my life. Was somebody setting off birthday fireworks for me? So they did remember! But there are no sparkling, flashing lights in the sky at the noise, and all the police men rush inside. Valencia grabs me, and I see that her eyes fill up with tears.

"Don't worry, Miss Amanda, it's my birthday, we must be celebrating!" I gleefully shout. The policemen finally emerge from my house with Daddy squirming in their arms. I hear sirens in the distance, and the men all look very solemn. Amanda is crying as she holds me.

"That bitch deserved everything she got. I never wanted her to keep that God damn baby in the first place. She's gonna rot in hell for being such a little whore and I'm happy she's dead," my Daddy screamed as they shoved him into the back of the Oxford-shoe car. The car races off and I see his dark eyes stare at me through the window with anger. He didn't wish me happy birthday because he didn't want me.

"Come on, baby girl, I remembered your birthday, we're going to go get you some ice cream to celebrate, okay?" Amanda speaks to me, wiping away her tears quickly and I know she knows something is really wrong. I hold on to my bunny real tight and nod my head. I want Momma to come with us.

End Flashback.

My birth father had abused us, because he wanted my birth mother to have an abortion. He resented her for making him take care of us both and that day he shot her and the police man watching them to free himself, essentially orphaning me. That was when my mom's best friend, Amanda Batchelder, first met me and decided she knew the perfect person to take care of me.

My mom, Valencia Martinez, could not have children, and when her husband, Eric, had a sudden heart attack, she knew she didn't want the bitter cold of an empty house. She had tried her first adoption with Jeff, a little boy whose mother died during child birth, and loved being a mother. She fell in love with little three-year-old-me right away.

Don't get me wrong, I love my mom and I know we have a great relationship and all, but you try coming from a family that doesn't want you and a father who kills your mom on your third birthday and tell me you're coming out of it unscathed. Yeah, that's what I thought, smart ass.

This song was to him. To the man who ruined everything for me. Well fuck you, man. Look at me now from your prison cell and see the woman I've become. I have people who love me and will be here for me until the day I die.

I looked down at the scars that he'd never know he caused. Scars that very few knew I had at all. Here's a plot twist for ya, readers: this tumor isn't the only thing that has me damaged.

I scribbled down a title to the verse I had written and continued with the lyrics to something I had subconsciously felt for so many years. Fuck you.

I hope you're happy that you'll outlive the daughter you never wanted to have.

OK. WOW. THAT WAS UNEXPECTED EVEN FROM MYSELF. DID YOU EXPECT HER TO BE ADOPTED? NO? ME EITHER IT JUST CAME TO ME I'M SO SORRY. THIS WAS EMOTIONAL FOR ME. And legit, the whole time I was skyping my friend and he told me I looked really angry the whole time. My bad haha. So this chapter was supposed to be about writing the songs, and I'll explain why I wanted the bit of back story.

SO: A) There was something that Fang saved Max's life with that they don't talk about. I figured suicide would make the cut, (I don't remember what I was thinking when I wrote that so many chapters ago).
B) I'm using original lyrics that I wrote when I went through a bad time in my life and like 95% of them are pretty fnickin' angry, so I'm adding some anger to our little rebellious Max, which I'm hoping makes her seem slightly less OOC.

I hope you guys enjoyed! And I'm still really sorry for such a long wait!

Love and Piggy Banks,
Abby