A/N:

kd: Hey guys! Sorry for being gone for so long.

Jet: I'll say!

kd: What the? Jet, you know me in real life so you could basically see me whenever you wanted!

Jet: Yeah, but, I'm sticking up for all the readers that have been waiting for your lazy ass to update!

kd: I'm sorry readers T.T...

Jet: You better be!

kd: It's just that...I was iffy about whether or not to even post this chapter...I had actually written it months ago. It's just that...I kinda feel bad about what I put Masky through. But I only did it because, unlike bakugan, I'll try to explain Maquerade's evilness.

Jet: It made me cry T.T

kd: Yeah, so don't feel bad if you cry, too. Just remeber that Jet is a tough cookie but crumbled, too. XD, Anyways, here's chapter 12!

I'm not much of a writer…so forgive me if I just move from one memory to the other. I guess I kinda have to start from the beginning because I have no diaries earlier than this.

I never really found any use for a diary, anyways, because I have a photographic memory. I could look and review earlier parts of my life and it would be like watching a very detailed video inside my head. So I could easily remember anything that was useful or significant in my life…clearly.

Ever since I was little I was hardly ever normal. When I was very young, six and younger, my parents would get horribly frustrated with me. When I was smaller, I wouldn't speak a word to them. Not one. It wasn't that I couldn't speak. I spoke to myself all the time. I just didn't want to speak to them. To me they were strangers since I insisted on staying in my own world. I didn't like strangers.

They would yell at me a lot and sometimes my mom would sometimes cry, "Why aren't you saying anything? Don't you love me?" I would just look at her for a long time but then turn my attention to whatever I was creating. The fact was…I didn't love them. I was a little monster who insisted on living in my own world. I was a little monster who didn't even love my own parents.

(Hydranoid shivered.)

(Shun rolled his eyes at Hydranoid and continued reading the diary aloud.)

Sometimes they would try to make me talk by saying, "Now, Riven, you're not getting dinner unless you ask for it, like a normal person." But, the thing was, I wasn't a normal person. I never was and I never will be. They ended up starving me for days because I refused to talk to them. They would then end up feeding me because they were afraid of being charged with abuse. Everything they did was forceful until they gave in.

Sooner or later, they couldn't figure it out. They even brought over a doctor to see me. The only reason they didn't bring the doctor any time sooner was because they didn't have the money for it. They probably still didn't have the money for it. We weren't that wealthy…ok, we were the opposite of wealthy. I was quite surprised when the doctor walked in full uniform, like one of the shows the neighbor liked to watch (we didn't have a TV ourselves, dad was once complaining about it being too expensive to mom). I remember watching people in their scrubs running around in big buildings while they shouted at people who were laid on beds with wheels. I never knew what they were saying because I couldn't hear the TV all the way from the neighbor's house, I could only watch it through the window.

I started to feel scared about this stranger. Was he going to put me on a bed on wheels and roll me into a room with big, bright lights as they cut me open with knives, like on the TV? I quickly abandoned my toys and hid behind the beat-up, dirty arm-chair, cautiously one eye peering over. He crouched down and folded and unfolded his hand in a beckoning movement. He wanted me to get closer. I narrowed my eyes at the doctor, I didn't trust him. Then again, I didn't trust anyone. But then I realized that, if I played along, he could be my entertainment, he could be my toy. Even if it was only for a few moments before he went away, he would much more fun than my broken toys.

It was a bright day at the amusement park and it was crowded with people…something Masquerade didn't seem happy about it. I had to keep pulling him by his arm to see the different attractions. We went on big rollercoasters where lots of people screamed…but Masquerade just kept silent the entire ride, not opening his mouth once, not even cracking a small smile. It defiantly made the roller coaster picture rather creepy looking. I was a little taken aback by his stoic nature at an amusement park. But hey, what else is new?

We went to one of the food stalls to get icecream and sat down on one of the benches. We had already been at the park for an hour but had not once uttered a word to each other.

"Ummm…" I tried to search my brain for conversation starters, "Well, thanks for paying for everything, including the icecream!"

Masquerade shrugged, "I have too much money anyways…" he kept his eyes on his icecream…well, I didn't actually know where he was looking because of his mask but his head was turned in that direction. A small voice in my head said You WISH he was looking at you!

I looked at him with a raised eyebrow in response to his nonchalant statement. How can someone have too much money? Well, Masquerade lived in a mansion so I guess he really was loaded. My mind wondered. Not only was he loaded he was also pretty hot, really interesting and sometimes had a dark sense of humor. I tried imagining what his entire face looked like.

Masquerade finally turned his head toward me, he opened his mouth and closed it, as if debating whether or not to say what was on his mind.

That just made me want to know what he was thinking even more, "What is it?"

"Your icecream's melting…" he said blankly, trying, but failing, to suppress a smirk.

I looked at my hand, with a blush now on my face, and wiped the sticky treat off my hand with a napkin. Dumbass…the voice in my head scolded me. My face reddened.

"I don't think your icecream would be melting like that if your face wasn't so red." He made the comment in a detached way but I knew he was making fun of me.

I felt my face get even hotter at his comment. Couldn't I do anything right? I let my eyes wander to the ground. It sometimes seemed that Masquerade enjoyed my company just for my immediate reactions…as if he lived off of human emotion, which was strange because at first glance you would think he had no emotions.

I felt a finger poke at my hot cheek. I gave Masquerade an irritated look.

He turned his body away from me. I could see his back shaking. I thought something might've been wrong with him so I tried to reach my hand toward him but stopped when I heard his burst into laughter.

Well, I'm glad he was enjoying this moment because I couldn't remember any time I might have been more embarrassed. Little did I know that my masked friend had more surprises in store for me.

My mom worked part-time at a nursery and would bring me broken toys from there. It was because we didn't have enough money for real toys and she didn't want to lose her job by stealing the good toys. Little did she know…I quickly learned how to fix the toys. When my parents weren't home, which was often, I would take my father's mini repair-kit they kept in a low cabinet in the kitchen. I would always giggle at the warning that said, "Keep out of reach of children." Fixing my own toys gave me such great satisfaction. It felt good that I could take seemingly useless things and make them better. But I would rarely play with the toys after I fixed them, fixing them was the only fun and challenging part.

I came out from behind the arm-chair and walked up to the doctor and sat down in front of him. I was ready for the show. He didn't really do anything that was extreme. I did feel uncomfortable when he looked inside my ear with that device-thingy. And stuck a wooden stick onto my tongue. So a couple of things felt like an invasion of privacy, but I put up with it.

I could tell my parents were very surprised by me letting a complete stranger touch me. Maybe I was more comfortable with it because I recognized the doctor figure from the TV shows. The neighbor really liked those kinds of shows. They were always shown as the hero, even if they cut people open with knives, and even if they made people cry over patients when their machine started to show a straight line instead of hills and valleys.

The doctor stood up when he was done and pocketed his equipment. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow as if to say, 'That's all?'

"Well…what's wrong with him?" my dad asked in a worried tone, as if there was something wrong with me.

"Is there anything we can do?" my mother's tone matched my father's as they drilled the doctor with questions.

"Well…I don't really think there's anything wrong with him…" the doctor scratched the back of his head, quite confused onto why he had to make a house-call to a perfectly healthy child.

"He won't speak, not a word!" Mother burst out.

The doctor raised an eyebrow toward the slightly hysterical woman. "Then maybe you should have taken him to a behavior specialist. Or have told me the problem sooner, because otherwise, he has a clean bill of health."

My father looked irritated, "Well, what do you think is wrong with him behavioral wise? You're already here so we would appreciate it if you could give us a bit of a hint."

The doctor scratched his head again, "You haven't heard him talk? Not once? Hmmm…well, his hearing and reaction instincts are actually above average, so it's not to do with his hearing. It could be a language disorder. If it was that extreme of a case of Aphasia that he couldn't talk, then he wouldn't be able to read or write. Yet you have told me that, even though he hasn't received any preschool education and is only at the age of four, he can write out complete, grammatically correct sentences. So that is not it. It might be an Expressive Language Disorder, in which intelligence is normal but just speaking skills is remarkably underdeveloped. Yet I don't think your child has 'normal' intelligence, either. (A/N: btw, these are all real disorders.) And there is also autism that prevents children from speaking at the appropriate age. But autism is a disorder in which the one affected has trouble comprehending emotion, which I don't think is that case with Riven."

My head started to swirl around with all the new, longer words I had never heard before, I struggled to completely understand what he was saying, "He probably is simply a mute. One becomes mute by either having damaged or underdeveloped voice organs or a traumatizing experience, something to do with physiological damage. I don't think it has to do with his voice but I can't really, considering the things you've told me, think of an experience enough to cause Riven to become mute."

The doctor sighed, "I apologize, this isn't my expertise. Everyone is an individual when it comes to different disorders. There isn't anything wrong with your son, no parent must think of it like that, Riven is just different." I appreciated how the doctor didn't think there was anything wrong with me, unlike my parents. "I could try to mail you something that might help if you're not going bring him to a specialist."

My parents started to thank him, but I wasn't going to let him leave without having the last word. I had sat perfectly still throughout the entire appointment, he didn't even bring a lollipop like doctors are supposed to, and I was going to have my fun. Still sitting cross-legged on the floor I crossed my arms and turned my head with my nose up, "Humph. You call yourself a doctor yet you can't fix one child." I made sure to put as much brattiness in my voice as I could. I turned my head to look at the doctor's reaction, which was not what I expected. He looked at with some sort of respect or even…admiration. I couldn't really understand why he felt this why, but it only made me like him more. Funny how this complete stranger came in and managed to make me talk to him and then like him. It was something my parents never managed to do themselves.

I looked past the doctor to see my parents' reactions. They were abashed, their faces as white as ghosts. It was the first thing they have ever heard me speak and it was an insult directed toward the one who was supposed to be helping me. A smile crossed over my face, I wanted to laugh right in their faces but I restrained myself. The doctor, once again, came up and kneeled in front of me. He didn't punish me for being different, like my parents would. He didn't accuse me of being a monster who didn't love my parents, like my parents would, either. He took out his hand and patted my head, as if I was just any other kid, "You don't require fixing, Riven." I couldn't help but beam up at him. With that he stood up and made an exit through the front door. I hurried past my parents to the chair that had it's back to the window. I climbed it and watched through the window as the doctor walked down our driveway and up the curb to where his small car was. I still remember that his car with white, like his uniform coat. He looked back and waved as he was about to get in his car. I was about to wave back but his car was already driving away. I watched until the car turned a corner and was out of sight.

I looked behind me and, from the chair, I watched my parents hurry this way and that. I looked at the clock, it was about time that they would go do their jobs now. I was happiest when they went to work. They would leave me completely alone inside the house. Now I spent most of my time alone. When they left they locked the doors and all the windows so I'd stay put, they couldn't afford a babysitter for the entire day, nor could they afford to lose one of their jobs. They left at 7 o'clock and came back around 9:30 P.M. Of course, until then I had the run of the house. There were lots of weird things I did to keep myself entertained. Like take apart appliances only to put them back together by following the picture in my mind of how it was supposed to look on the inside.

My parents were extra hurried this morning, as if they wanted to go to work and forget about what happened. Without even so much of a glance toward me they left through the door. Shortly after I heard the clicks of the door being locked. I ran inside their bedroom and sat down in my favorite corner. I started laughing my socks off. They had looked so silly when I actually said something. If all it took was one sentence for my parents to react like that then I should speak more often. It was humor, I had a sense of humor, but it was cruel, sick humor, even at that age I understood that.

We had finished our icecream and were silently sitting on the bench. I couldn't think of what to do next. We had already done most of the attractions but I couldn't tell which ones Masquerade liked, he always refused to smile on the rides, for some reason. Of course, I could always ask him but I was waiting for him to suggest something. I looked over to where he was sitting. He seemed quite comfortable. He was leaning back with his hands tucked underneath his head as he stared up into the sky. He didn't look bored, just deep in thought.

It then struck me how solitary or quiet Masquerade could be. It was so strange. Sometimes he could walk into a room and command everyone's attention without using a single word, like he did at the Christmas party. Other times he could blend into the background, pass everyone's attention, act as if he wasn't even there. If Masquerade appeared somewhere, and wanted people's attention, he would get everyone's attention. But if he suddenly disappeared people might not even notice for at least a couple of months.

Well, Masquerade had passed the attention of most people…most people…

A red and yellow was thrown in Masquerade's direction, but before it could reach his mask he caught it between two fingers, without so much a glace toward the person who threw it at him.

"Hey! Give him back!" a small boy approached Masquerade.

"Oh? You want it back? I thought you were giving him to me as a gift but were too impatient to hand it to me." Masquerade had an evil smirk on his face.

The boy had tears in his eyes, "I-I-I'm sorry I threw him at you just…p-please don't send him to h-his d-d-d-doom…" he was obviously choking up.

I couldn't help but feel pity toward this small child. Then I thought…why am I dating Masquerade, again? He was the enemy of the brawlers and send bakugan to their ultimate doom for the sake of the most evil bakugan known to man…Naga. But, then again, Masquerade was loaded, hot, and it was never boring to be in his presence. Wait a minute…those pros and cons didn't weigh out exactly…oh, well.

To my surprise, Masquerade actually handed the boy his bakugan back. I stared at him.

He sighed and said, "I didn't come here for brawling."

I wanted him to finish that sentence with, I came here for you. It was silly, I know, because why else would a villain go to a sunny theme park? Of course, I wanted to hear him say it, anyways. It's like how women always want to hear that they're loved, even if they know it's true, they just want to hear it said.

The bakugan popped up in his partner's hand. Masquerade must've recognized him because he said, "Ah, Saber, long time, no see."

The bakugan looked taken aback, "Ummm…I don't think we've personally met."

"All you pyrus bakugan are same. So eager to rush into action without realizing the consequences to those actions. I would hate to see what happened to your friends happen to you. You shouldn't be so keen on interfering with Naga after what happened last time…"

If a bakugan could shutter in ball-form, this one defiantly did, "Wh-who are you? H-h-how do you know about this?"

Another grin spread across Masquerade's face, "Let's just say the stars told me."

Saber told his owner that he was tired of talking and that it was a stupid idea to irritate him.

I had no idea what they were talking about and I decided I didn't really want to know what they were talking about. I had never seen a bakugan so scared in my life. Did Masquerade know a lot of secrets about different bakugan? And if he did, was it Naga who tells him these things? It hit me hardest then…that I was dating a villain.

You may be asking, at this time, why I disliked my parents so. The fact was…I understood they weren't my real parents. Sure, I didn't understand the whole process of 'adoption' but I understood they were trying to be my parents even though they weren't. I, at the time, was four, I was with my real mom until I was three. The memory of her still stuck up in my mind at that time. Back then I could still remember clearly what she looked like. How she always looked at me with that beautiful, sad smile of hers. It was as if she knew that even if she loved me, all the love in the world wouldn't allow her to keep me forever. I could always spend time with her, she was always home, unlike my new parents. She worked at home, I had memories of her sitting at her laptop and rubbing her temples in stress.

She would work on her laptop a lot, though, so I had to learn to play by myself, but at least she was there. She would pat my head and give me a big, hopeful smile and say, "Just you wait, Riven, once I'm finished with the program, we can live in a big house together and we'll never be hungry. It'll just be you and me! And no one will be able to change it." I didn't really understand what a program was but it sounded important. The thought of it always made me smile. Just me and my mother. But behind her smile I could notice a hint of sadness and sense of doom. Was it just a fantasy? Would our happiness at some point end? I didn't want to think of those things, so I didn't. But one day in particular brought all the thoughts back into my head. My mom was crying over the laptop she worked on.

"Mommy, why are you crying?" I asked in a curious and hurt voice as I tugged her skirt.

She suddenly looked up as she heard the wound in my voice, "N-nothing, honey! Sometimes…just sometimes it's hard…and women need time to cry."

"Why just women?" I asked.

My mom laughed and picked me up and put me on her lap, "Well…that's kind of generalizing people…so I don't think I should teach you that." She light-heartedly laughed again and wrapped her arms around me as I stared at her computer screen. My head swirled with all the ones and zeros. I didn't understand any of it, but it must have been important and meant something…

I looked around the apartment and tried to imagine it being the inside of a big house my mom was talking about. I smiled at the thought. Though I really didn't care about where we lived I just liked living with my mom. But instantly visions of nice hotel rooms, from travel brochures my mom looked at online, with palm trees and sunsets poking in through the windows and plump beds and flat screen TV's flooded my mind. Would we live somewhere nice like that if my mom finally finished this 'program'? I would often think about it, about escaping our run-down, one-bedroom apartment and moving into a fancy, big house, like my mom said we would. I would also talk to her a lot about what our new house would look like and we would look up images online together and point to all the houses we liked.

There were pretty white houses with white picket fences and flower beds snuggled up to the bottom of the house. There were also beige beach houses that glowed golden in the sunset light. There were small, cute houses, and grand, intimidating houses. I learned a lot of architecture terms that would make anyone impressed to hear from a three-year-old.

Yet, as I feared, our happiness did not last. My mother put on a raincoat, it was pouring cats and dogs outside. I took one last glance outside the window. I saw the smoke rising out of the chimney of the grey factory, the dark grey smoke rose into the dark, grey sky. Bright colored cars zipped down on the road below, people on the sidewalk with umbrellas over their heads hurried to get out of the rain. My mother, now in her raincoat, turned to me, "Riven, we need to go."

I turned my attention back to her, "But where are we going?" I saw that her face was as grim as the weather outside.

She took my hand and pried me from the window, "We're going to meet some friends of mine." She tried to give me a smile to reassure me but…it was not a smile of hope, there was something going on I couldn't comprehend. I started to feel nervous, I had never been outside before, and I didn't really feel like going when mother was acting strange like this. This small apartment was my whole world, and I didn't like the fact that my whole world was about to change.

She hurried me through the crowd of strangers. I looked up at their dark faces and grim expressions. The world wasn't the bright and happy place portrayed by the photos I saw on the internets. The houses weren't bright white buildings with big lawns and cheerful flower beds or tan beach houses painted golden by breathtaking sunsets. It felt like a stone in my stomach was dragging it down. A sense of dread fell over me that I couldn't explain. What was happening?

We later reached an empty street. A couple draped in dark trench coats twenty feet down the road waved to us through the heavy rain. My mother put her hands on both of my shoulders then turned me around to face her as she kneeled down to look me in the face, "Riven…I'm sorry."

I was struck speechless by this sudden apology. What was she sorry for?

She moved her hands from my shoulders to tenderly place them on my cheeks, "I'm sorry…I couldn't finish the program in time. Even when I tried to fool myself, I knew I would never be able to complete such a complex program in time, even if I tried my hardest. I'm afraid…I can no longer keep you by my side, we have run out of time."

I marveled at her face. She had the most painfully beautiful and mournful smile that I had ever seen someone produce. I didn't want the warmth for her hands to leave my small face. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Instead I wrapped my hands on her wrists, as if my small fists and weak grip would keep her from leaving. She did a good job if keeping her hoodie up as her face was dry, excluding the two, fat droplets of water that ran from the outer corners of her eyes to the middles of her cheeks where they stayed next to her magnificently hopeless smile, a smile that was so empty yet full at the same time. My face felt wet, too, but I can't remember if it was from the water from the sky or the water from my eyes. I wanted to stay like that for eternity. If I had to stand in the rain forever, as long as she was with me, I would still be one of the happiest children in the world.

My mother, after a long moment that seemed to last an eternity yet only a split second at the same time, stood up. "I hope someday…you may be able to forgive you for this. If I could keep you, I would." I tried to reach up at her, I tried to grab at her skirt, but she just backed away and slowly shook her head, a ghastly expression took over her once-gentle face as she dropped her forced smile. She turned and ran, without looking back. I tried to run after her but two strong hands grabbed my small, flailing arms. I tried to struggle but as I lost sight of my mother through the thick rain my limbs went limp with despair. I was carried away to my new home to live with the people in scary trench coats.

"Oh come on! There had to be one ride you liked!" I flailed my arms in frustration. Really, I knew this guy's a villain but does he really have to be such a killjoy all the time?

"I'm not really into theme parks, they're always crowded and all the rides do is throw you around." He complained.

"Well, yeah, that's kind of the point of the rides." I muttered matter-of-factly.

"So, in the end, there really is no point in amusement parks." Masquerade sighed. I hated how he was acting like he was just here to waste time.

"If you find that you have something better to do, you, by all means, can leave." I growled with annoyance clear in my voice.

Masquerade's mouth parted slightly in surprise, "I came here because you wanted it and I'll leave if you want it." He said it as stoically as ever. He started to get up.

"Wait!" I grabbed his arm.

"What?" he grumbled toward me.

"Ummm…let's go on the Ferris wheel!" If Masquerade didn't like the other thrill rides maybe he would like the Ferris wheel?

He grunted as if to say, 'Do I have to?'

I lowered my eyes at him and gave him a death glare for all I was worth. I couldn't really tell whether it affected or not so I muttered, "Yes, you have to."