A/N: My most sincere apologies to the delay in getting this chapter out. Personal conflicts resulted in the one week delay. Another sorry for an error that this story has with the show; in both this chapter and the previous one, I mention Margaret looking out the window and seeing the park on the other side. Upon rewatching one of the episodes of Regular Show, I now realize that this is impossible, as the shop is not on ground level as I thought it was. Rather, it is slightly underground. So she can't look out the window. I did not find this out until after I had written the majority of this chapter, so it was far too late to go back and change everything. Sorry again for this mistake.

Despite all the crazy mishaps on the road to completing this story, please enjoy this next installment of Sunday. Thank you very much for reading, and be sure to leave a review at the end!

Pain.

That one word summed up the complete and total agony flaring up inside of her. The burning was so intense that she could almost feel every individual feather on her body stand on end. She kept her eyes closed, wishing that she could find a way to escape this cruel torture. She tightened her shut lids further, preparing for the blow that was sure to come shortly.

Earlier in the day, she had been staring out one of the many windows in the diner, much like how she had been doing so when she saw the small girl in the park. This window, however, gave her a different view completely; one she did not like. There were two men talking to each other. One was wearing a normal, casual outfit that was perfect for a Sunday afternoon; the denim jeans covered his lower half at an average length, and a small black tank top adorned his chest and back. His blonde tuft of hair sat still on top of his head, and he looked at the man he was talking to with little interest. She stared at him with disgust, only then realizing who the person was.

Her ex was talking to a man wearing a formal suit and a cap; she thought of him akin to a Nazi officer. The silver cross patched onto his sleeve didn't help his case, either. They were discussing something, but she could not make out the words which they were exchanging. A chill ran up her spine as she continued to watch. She noticed Slasher point in the direction of the Coffee Shop. The suited man looked her way. Her eyes met with his. A million thoughts rushed through her head. In those eyes, she could see nothing but hate and destruction. She knew that he was up to no good. She feared what Slasher had told the man.

The man did not break eye contact with her for what seemed like decades. Eventually, she looked away, and resumed her cleaning duties around the diner. The feeling that she was being watched did not leave her.

"Do you understand?"

She opened her eyes as she was brought back to reality.

"I'm sorry. What?"

The dark, tall figure in front of her groaned in disappointment. "You can't keep screwing up like this! One more mistake like this, and-"

"I get it," Margaret responded, putting her wings up in defense. "I know." The figure sighed.

"No. I don't think you get it." She squinted as the blinds opened, and light flooded the dark room. The one she was talking to peered out the window. "Times are changing. I don't know how much longer I can keep your kind employed…" She tensed up.

"A-are you firing me?" She asked somewhat desperately.

"No. But you need to be careful."

Her mind traveled back to the pasture. She was so young, so pure… she hummed to herself as she picked a daisy from the grass. The skies darkened as the figure approached her. "Daddy!" She exclaimed happily, running toward the taller robin. She smiled up at her father, reaching up in hopes of being picked up. Instead, the bird patted her on the head. With a grin, she settled for it. "Here daddy," she said, handing him the flower in her wings, "I picked it for you!" He chuckled heartily.

"It's lovely, honey," he replied in a rich baritone. He put the daisy in his chest pocket, letting it hang out lazily.

"Do you want to stay and play with me, daddy?" She asked, sitting down on the wavy green. She sat up tall, eager for her father's response. He shook his head solemnly. Her smile disappeared.

"Sorry, honey," he said, patting her head again. "Daddy's very busy today. Maybe some other time." Her beak morphed into a sad frown as her father walked away, disappearing from sight. She began to worry, standing back up.

"Daddy?" She asked, calling out to the nothingness. A thick fog enveloped her. She couldn't see an inch past her beak. She looked all around herself, trying to find something, anything. A ghastly wind blew through her, bristling her feathers. She was almost knocked off her feet, when everything seemed to change.

The next thing she knew, she was standing in the middle of a room. Looking behind her, she noticed a door. A front door. She turned forward and saw another robin in the room adjacent to her; this one was not her father, but she felt a similar, parental vibe coming from the adult. "Mommy, when is daddy coming back?"

"Margaret, your father isn't coming back."

The words stuck to her like glue on paper. She didn't want it to be true, but deep down in her heart, she knew that nothing would change that fact.

She remembered that moment for the rest of her life. And from that point on, whenever someone would mention parents - especially one's father - she would cringe before resuming her conversation. It was only a matter of time before her dad became a distant memory, like someone she didn't recognize at all…

She was younger again. Much younger. Her father had taken her to a diner, much like the one where she currently worked at. They were eating food; her father loved breakfast, and was eating eggs and flapjacks. She stole a bit of hash browns while he wasn't looking. They talked. They laughed. They smiled. They left, making sure to tip the waiter generously for his hard work.

They left the blue, chromium eatery with a spring in their step, the auburn door only a few feet away. She could feel the tears beginning to burn in her eyes. Why couldn't things go back to the way they were?

She hated him.

"Remember, you're working overtime for that mess!"

Emerging from the room, she felt as if the world was beginning to collapse around her. That she was the only thing the entire planet had anything against, and that it wouldn't stop until she was completely and utterly miserable. Her love life had been destroyed, her job had been jeopardized, she had been publicly humiliated at her workplace, she had been reminded of her troubled childhood; and what, in the span of five, six hours? She groaned as she held her head in agony.

Her mind went back to the man who had been talking with Slasher earlier that day. She hated them, too. The words both of them had used to describe her- no, she told herself, people like her, as if they were vermin. Freaks? Really? What had she done to discredit her own name to society? She couldn't wrap her head around the discrimination. The way everything was slowly falling apart around her made her head swirl.

She couldn't take it anymore. She wanted her life to go away. She didn't want to take it anymore. But at the same time… she stood up tall. She couldn't let the daily humdrum of everything around take advantage of her. She began to walk, taking one step after the next, to exit those double doors, walk around tables, inquire guests as to what they wanted, and-

She stopped dead in her tracks. It was then that she realized that it would be how she would live the rest of her life. A waitress, waking up every weekend to go that same, meaningless job, and pretend that all was well and fine on a seemingly normal afternoon, waiting on people who came to escape their own lives for whatever reason they may have so that they may enjoy a simple meal. A normal Sunday…

Brunch.

A/N: I didn't like this chapter. The epilogue is next week.