Chapter One: Typical Morning

The day everything changed began like any other, in a seemingly typical home, where a seemingly normal mother named Lois Griffin was making breakfast.

Although she was now in her mid forties, Lois was still an exceptionally beautiful woman with close-cropped auburn hair and expressive hazel-green eyes. Her bubbly personality and the air of charm around her never failed to draw the eye or brighten at least one person's mood per day.

She hummed a little tune as she fried a myriad of eggs on the stove, then turned to another frying pan and flipped over her pancakes before popping two pieces of bread into the toaster oven.

"Brian, breakfast is almost ready! Could you go wake Peter and Chris and then grab Stewie?!" she called, voicing ringing throughout the house as she peeled the eggs off the skillet.

"Sure, Lois!" an almost-human sounding voice called back. "I will."

"Also, make sure Peter puts his clothes on before he eats!" she added. "We don't want a repeat of the day he forgot his pants."

She shuddered as a mental flash of her half-naked husband walking out the door with a half-asleep expression seared through her mind.

"Yeah, yeah."

She suspiciously peered around the corner and watched as the white dog padded up the stairs. The robotic undertone beneath his strangely charismatic speech never failed to confuse and amaze her deep down.

To this day, she still didn't fully know how Brian's collar worked or even where he'd gotten it.

She'd asked him once, but he'd remained silent on the matter, and all she really knew was that it had the ability to translate their words into things his mind could understand and in turn, could translate his own mindless barks into proper speech. She would have dug deeper into those peculiar questions had she any real motivation to do so, but she almost always had other things on her mind.

When a series of barks met her ears, she smiled and with a whistle, flipped the eggs, taking a moment to add some cheese before sliding them around the frying pan. Then she added some butter to the pancakes and expertly flipped them onto a plate.

Not long after, a sleepy-looking Stewie came down riding on Brian's back, then came Peter, and then Chris.

"Morning, honey," Peter drawled, walking over to the fridge and pulling a beer out of it. "What's for breakfast?"

"Pancakes with cheese omelets!" she cheerfully told him, hastily walking over and giving him a peck on the cheek before returning to what she'd been doing. "Sit down at the table."

"Morning, Mom," Chris croaked. "Breakfast smells good."

"Well, I want my boys to go out and have a good day," Lois drawled, grinning when he flopped his baseball cap over his shaggy blonde hair. "Can't do your best on an empty stomach, trust me."

Stewie, a child of only four years old, rolled his big blue eyes when Peter put him in the safety seat and Brian hopped up on a chair at the table and sat there beside him, panting, with his tongue lolling out. Not long after that, Chris and Peter both took a seat, all of them waiting for breakfast.

My boys, she thought. My wonderful boys.

The good mood that morning was overwhelming.

For once, everyone seemed to be responding pleasantly with each other and the typical banter was accentuated with laughter and merriment. They were all a bit tired, sure, but despite that things were still rather pleasant.

But then, she walked into the room.

Lois's smile turned into a deadpan scowl and the illusion of her happy family shattered into a million pieces.

Meg.

The daughter.

Her chestnut bown hair was messy and sticking out in every direction even though she'd obviously run a comb through it twice, and her pale pink shirt draped loosely over her torso, looking too big for her body. Lois eyed her in disgust: she was wearing the same tattered blue jeans, those ugly dark grey tennis shoes, and that awful pink beanie she'd kept practically glued to her head for ten years.

It had faded so much that the crocheted flowers on it had lost their shape, and the color was practically grey.

Wordlessly, Meg hefted the backpack on her shoulder and slinked over to the kitchen sink, grabbing a glass out of the cupboard, and with deft motions, she filled it with water before downing it.

Lois watched as she repeated the process twice, then rinsed out the glass and washed it.

Turning around, Meg looked straight at her.

Lois kept the hate off her face, but that didn't make it go away from her heart. She loathed it when Meg looked at her, since it was like her eyes constantly conveyed that everything was her fault.

Their color and shape and expressiveness mirrored her own in almost every way, but the things they expressed always pissed her off in the worst sort of way.

She always found ways to look down on the world, even from her low station in life, but Meg had never looked anywhere but up at the sky, away from the world around her, wistfully, wanting more than she already had.

Wanting to go places far away from where she really belonged, like she could reach for places higher than her own pitiful station in life.

And a part of Lois knew she could do it.

She had talent with music and singing.

She was good with her hands.

She was smart.

And Lois resented all of it.

Those long-lashed hazel-green eyes, which seemed much smaller than they should have thanks to the battered round glasses resting on her nose, held absolutely no reflective sheen. No feeling. They looked dead, and even when she smiled a bit, there was nothing there and it made Lois smug.

Keeping her low was the only way to win.

"Morning, Mom," Meg quietly greeted, speaking in a tentative tone. "I'm going to school now."

"You're not gonna eat breakfast?" Lois sarcastically inquired, turning away with stiff shoulders; the mood in the kitchen had darkened to the point of being smothering. "It's pancakes and eggs."

"No, but thanks," Meg murmured, hefting her backpack. "I'll get breakfast at school."

When she turned to go, Peter abruptly stood up and swaggered over, grinning nastily.

"Hey, Meeeeeg," he drawled, clasping his hands and innocently looking down at her. "No goodbye hug?"

She turned with an expression of confusion, blinking a few times, and Lois watched as a spark of uncertainty and faint hope made those dead eyes come to life a little bit.

A smirk built up inside her.

Sure enough, when the girl hesitantly lifted her arms and took a faltering step forward to embrace him, Peter grabbed her hair and roughly jerked her head down. She squeaked when she was thrown off balance, dead eyes squeezing shut from the force of his hand on her hair, and flailed, hitting his thighs.

"Dad, stop!" she cried, swinging her arms. "Let go!"

Lois knew what was coming, and she knew he wouldn't stop... he'd done this to her for years.

Meg apparently knew, too, since she held her breath and kept her eyes shut, shoulders trembling when she was crushed against his ass. Everyone, even Lois, laughed when he farted on her and let go, but when she quickly stood up and backed off, he thrust an antagonistic finger in her face.

"HAHAHAHA! Stupid Meg!" Peter cackled, cheeks flushed with mirth. "You fell for it! You fell for it!"

Lois watched, waiting for a reaction, for something.

But there was nothing.

When her daughter lifted her eyes, she was looking at him with no expression, irises lacking any and all reflective sheen, emotionally dead from the inside out. Irritation once again filled her and she went back to eating, not bothering to look back up when Meg rubbed her face and left the kitchen.

Lois wished she would disappear for good.

However, when a strange grin spread across Peter's face and he looked as though a light bulb had just lit up above his head, she mentally prepared herself and cleared her empty plate, rinsing it off in the sink. She knew it was coming in five... four...

"Hey... hey, Lois," Peter chuckled, making her groan internally. "I just got an idea... let's prank Meg today."

"Oh, Peter... you never change," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "What kind of prank?"

"Meg's been paying a lot of attention to Stewie lately," he whispered, smirking with childish glee, "let's see how she reacts if she thinks he's been hit by a car! I can catch the whole thing on camera and send it to America's funniest home videos!"

Lois whirled around, eyes wide with shock.

"PETER!" she squalled, mouth falling open. "A CAR?! HOW COULD YOU SUGGEST PUTTING STEWIE IN DANGER?!"

"Oh, he wouldn't be in danger!" the man assured, then bent over and opened a suitcase beneath the table; Lois blinked when he pulled out a very realistic-looking doll that clearly resembled their four-year-old son. The doll was even wearing Stewie's red coveralls. "See? I had this made a while back to practice holding the real thing."

Lois was unconvinced.

"Peter," she droned, shaking her head. "I'm not too sure about this..."

"It'll be fine!" he soothed, flapping a dismissive hand. "Trust me, Lois."

She went back to cleaning, thinking about it

She didn't really care about Meg.

She was more concerned with Stewie.

But maybe... it wasn't too bad, and it would give her a kick to see some actual panic compared to the lifeless adult Meg was slowly turning into. It had been a while since her last freakout, anyway.

She sighed in defeat, making Peter grin.

"Fine," she exhaled, giving him a look. "You keep an eye on the real Stewie, okay? And don't break my camcorder!"

Her husband laughed, the sound ringing through the kitchen.

"Boy, oh, boy, meg won't know what hit her!"

Lois merely smirked.

And deep down in her heart, she made a wish.

An evil wish.

A wish she never believed would really happen.