All hopes of this being shorter than FL went down the drain with the last chapter. That's not a bad thing, but it certainly doesn't help clear up my schedule. Whatever, I'll get over it.

In case ya'll were wondering, but you probably weren't, I've settled back into the new school year pretty well—like my classes, teachers are cool, friends are nice, drama is fresh, gossip is new on a daily basis; it's all working out this year.

If that made me sound like some bubble-blowing popular with a closet full a pink—I can very much assure you, I'm just the exact opposite, but I live a very full life.

Anyway, the updates will sadly growing slower and slower thanks to all my classes and work and commitments to the outside world, but I have a personally goal to have LL finished by the beginning of November, then have BA start at the beginning of January.

I'm not saying I'll reach those goals, but I'm gonna try.

Christine's Pov

Chase left soon after dinner was awkwardly closed. With a kiss goodbye and a promise of talking the next day, I closed the door after watching him walk down the street.

Rem and Bradley had disappeared to his makeshift room after Chase and I volunteered to clean up the table—she was probably helping him get ready for bed, and pitying his dreams of school that he wouldn't reach. At least, not with that bitch of a mother in this house.

But I hardly doubt dad was going to build up the nerve to kick her to the curb like I would have done in a heartbeat for the way she treated my boyfriend.

It seemed like being held captive for years then rescued—by my boyfriend and his family no less—would have given her the time to remember what manners were and how to use them.

Dad and my mother had disappeared into the kitchen, dad having a vice grip on his third glass of wine. While I stacked plates and piled on silverware I wondered if Chase could hear them, and if what they were saying was bad. By the way he had flinched as he gathered dirty glasses and scooped up all the leftovers, I could only assume that what they were saying wast ugly. And it wasn't even eight yet.

Now, I closed my bedroom door, standing in the hallway with my hand on the handle as I listened to the angry clanks of Dad loading up the dishwasher. I could picture it clearly—dad angrily fuming while my mother stood defiant and haughty, as if she held the answers to the universe.

As quietly as my footsteps would allow, I made my way to the top of the stairs and gingerly perched myself there, biting my lip as my parents' voices grew louder. My mother sounded angry, which immediately fueled my disgust. Chase was the perfect gentleman! He used his manners when he wanted the side salad passed to him, and even asked permission for seconds. I bet she couldn't name one other man that would be so dorky and polite as to do that.

Except for maybe my dad, but I digress.

"Really, Maria, your behavior tonight was just unacceptable," Dad said, sounding equal parts annoyed and tired. "I just don't know why you act in such a hostile way towards a boy as kindhearted as Chase was this evening."

"Please," she snorted. I could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "If he was so gentlemanly, than he wouldn't have let the mother be so poorly treated. A mother's judgement is the best, most hard-earned kind after all."

I resisted the urge to get up and run in there to scream my head off at her. As if she could be allowed that kind of jurisdiction over my relationships. Rem was more fit to be a mother than she would ever be. I bet she was bitter and envious because she knew that.

"I can't say it's up to you to make those kind of decisions anymore," Dad retorted, sounding as fed-up as I felt. Finally. Maybe he was getting over his wallowing guilt and pity to finally see that she was being a total brat just because she was saved. "You lost that privilige when you walked out on her when she was five, and neither her or I will be allowing you to gain it back so quickly. As for the moment, you are a guest in my home Maria, and guests don't get a say in how I raise my daughter."

Way to go dad! I cheered, feeling my mouth stretch into a victorious grin. At last, she got a taste of her own medicine. Sure, she was locked up and forced to do the evil bidding of a puppet master, but that didn't mean she had to be a total bitch to the heroes. Last I knew, no fairytale operated that way, and mine certainly wasn't going to be the first, not on my watch.

"I can't believe you'd be so cruel as to rob me of my daughter's life," my mother sniffed.

I rolled my eyes. So pathetic.

"Hardly," Dad snorted. I heard th dishwasher close with a loud, sharp bang. The sound was enough to make me jump in surprise. Whoa, maybe dad was a little bit more steamed than I had thought. But I couldn't blame him. First he lost the love of his life, then is hospitalized by the mere heartbreak of it all, then the real her is rescued, then it turned out the real her made the clone look as charitable as a willing kidney donor.

It was certainly an topsy-turvy roller coaster.

"Let me remind you, you walked out on us Maria, not the other way around," Dad said, And just because you had put yourself in bad terms and someone helped you get out of it, doesn't mean everything will be like it was almost twelve years ago. Chris has changed, I've changed, our family has changed. And the change didn't involved you, and it probably won't now."

The mental picture of my mother standing there, gaping at him like a fish stayed in my head all night, long after I had abandoned my spot at the top of the stairs and changed for the night.

She may not be as hurt as dad was when she walked out, but their little quarrel in the kitchen was enough to keep me satisfied.

December 21st 2013

"Wow, what a bitch," Rachel said, leaning back as she looked between Chase and I with wide eyes. "And to think we helped save her ass."

"Yeah, not to mention the whole bitch label is coming from you," Bree chirped, not even looking up from her magazine.

I gave an amused snort as Rachel scowled and launched a rolled-up Seventeen her head. "Oh, shut up."

Once those two were done tossing the pillow back and forth with throws that were pretty well aimed at their heads, Janelle's head shot up as she announced loudly with a pumped fist, "I did it!"

"What'd she do?" I asked, running my hands through Chase's hair as his head rest in my lap.

"Managed to get a reply from the MCPD," Leo stated from where he sat practically on top of Janelle's leg in one of Rachel's many plushy bean bags.

I swear, after like two minutes in one of those things it felt like you lost your butt in it.

"Yeah, after like fifty anonymous messages," Janelle added in a frustrated tone, "all on the same topic. Jesus, it'd seem like they would think of this more urgent if they got fifty emails in under an hour."

"Well, the people on the squad are rather old," Bree pointed out. She finally looked up from her magazine, looking over at the tablet Janelle held in her hands. "I highly doubt any technology in that department is new."

There was an air of murmured agreement. Mission Creek wasn't famous for upgrades, even though some of the richest people in the world lived here, like Davenport for instance.

"Oh, wait!" Janelle let out a cry as her tablet dingedso ringing everyone out of their various thoughts. "I got one!"

"They got it?" Rachel asked, slamming down the magazine she had just picked up, tipping forward eagerly. "What'd they say?"

There was a tense stretch of silence as Janelle carefully read over whatever she had gotten, mouth moving along to what she read.

"Well?" Bree prompted impatiently. She too had ditched her magazine at hearing about a response.

"Well," Janelle drawled slowly, "it doesn't say that they can can take any immediate action, but the do have a team of detectives looking into the information we had given them!"

The bursted into sudden excitement, everyone exploding into cheers and overdramatic fist pumps into the air. Even Chase sat up a little from where I thought he had been napping on my lap to join in on the celebratory chatter.

I blinked, everyone else going about the conversation so casually.

Wow, just like that, and our problem had been dropped into the police department's hand.

I guess it hadn't struck me how easy and smooth that kind of thing would be. We tell the police, they tell us they'll handle it, and the weight is lifted from our shoulders, quicker than a finger snap.

Something about that unsettled me, but I reluctantly shrugged it off, everyone else's good moods becoming contagious. I was probably just recalling all the past bad things that had happened to us, but maybe fate had finally given us a break—maybe fate decided to leave the superhero mumbo jumbo to someone else for a while.

I looked around, taking in the happy, relaxed faces of my friends and soft, assuring feel of Chase's hair as it repeated slipped through my fingers.

For the first time in months, I slumped and let my myself Breathe.

"Quick! Turn it to Channel 8 News!"

A skinny blur scared me to death as it rocketed over the back of the couch, landing ungraciously next to me.

That was the fastest I'd ever seen Bradley move. And the loudest I've ever heard his voice get. But man, when he really wanted to, he could be as loud as Rachel. Maybe. Almost.

Okay, so no one could compete with Rachel on loudness, but I think you get my point.

"Why? What's going on?" I asked after forcing down my shock and slowly reaching for the remote.

Deciding I was too slow, Bradley launched for the remote himself, the TV coming alive with a click.

The TV was already on Channel 8; someone must have been watching it when I had been over at Rachel's.

"It's on the news!" Bradley exclaimed, in a tone that was breathless and several other emotions of giddiness and anxiety.

I turned to the screen. Co-anchors Jimmy and Wanda sat in their perfect glory behind their officiant desk with their little unappealing cups of coffee and scattering of papers in front of them.

I swear to you, they were like the real life Barbie and Ken.

Or, at least the Toy Story versions anyway.

"Just hours ago we received information on an invalid warehouse operating," Wanda said in her all-business tone. Still, it was perky enough to remind me of a cheerleaders. I didn't think anchorwoman were so full of unused pep.

"The warehouse appeared to be located on the edge of Mission Creek, the building itself left unattended to for several years," she continued.

"Reports of a cult operating in the basement and main floor of the warehouse were given to MCPD this morning by the dozen," Jimmy tacked on, face stretching grimly. "Further details to come."

Bradley took the remote from my slacked grip, flicking the TV off as they started on a story about three break-ins two towns over.

Whoa—even in my thoughts, I was left speechless. This was it. I knew that the case wasn't really done—it wouldn't be done until they were all sitting on their butts in the nut house— but it was on the news. No longer would we have to wonder what their next move would be, of if we would even be safe eating the horrendous cafeteria food.

My brother began chatting away, his voice growing distant as my body sagged against the couch.

I think he was talking about school or normality, one of the topics that was a usual occurrence with him.

But I was too busy praying to the stars that the MCPD would be enough. And that my life could be normal for once too.

Later that night I crawled under my warm covers, my TV blaring softly as its images cast funny looking shapes against my bedroom wall.

I stared up at the ceiling, my stomach hurting from how many hot dogs and ranch pasta I had inhaled at dinner not even an hour ago.

I couldn't remember falling asleep, but I sure as hell would never forget waking up to my hands desperately clutching at my aching throat with Bradley standing above a fallen body, a frying pan held high above his head.

Well, we did watch Tangled before dinner.

Okay sucky ending, but you don't need to remind me. I'm sorry this took forever, but I've been busy with homework, and my computer crashed, so now I'm using this dinky set-up that involves a lot of cables and ugh.

The bad news? I lost my Marcus story, which I had been three chapters into. So now I'm majorly fucking pissed about that, bhut thank God my memory manages to come through with stories.

But I will have to delay it so, blegh.

Leave a review if you pity me. Or like the chapter. Or both.