But no matter how much it angered me, there was no way to know who had done it. I couldn't even prove that it had happened at all. I trusted my gut feeling that there was no way she could have gotten that drunk that quickly.

Thinking of her and what happened last night only reaffirmed what I had already noticed. She was innocent—far more so than the girls I usually associated with.

Even with the warnings going off in my head she still piqued my curiosity. Before, the first sign of innocence and I would have shut it down before it had a chance. Hell, I had given her an open invitation. What was I doing?

My mood hadn't improved later that day when my mom called again. For a few seconds I debated avoiding this call but I let out a sigh before I answered it.

"Sin." Her familiar voice breathed my name. Each time she said my name I was reminded of why she had named me that. I was a constant reminder of a mistake that had been life-changing. It didn't matter that I hadn't really had any part in it, yet I still carried the burden of it.

Most people would be comforted by the sound of their parent's voice, but not me. It set me on edge with an undercurrent of anger. I raked a hand through my hair as I leaned back in my chair, still facing my laptop. I'd been busy with an assignment.

"Mom," I said tightly, trying to soothe the anger that she created in me.

I understood she wasn't the same person but it didn't just erase a past I was trying to forget. But I could still feel that old, familiar fear of being alone with my stomach grumbling for my next meal. I gritted my teeth as I rode the spike of anger in my emotions.

I didn't owe her anything. But something stopped me from cutting her out of my life. Was it the fear that I would feel worse if I let her die without forgiveness?

"How are you?" she asked stiffly.

We didn't have a close mother-and-son relationship. We were still trying to fix years of problems.

"I'm fine," I said tightly, unable to pretend I was happy to hear from her.

She was sober now. But it was only because she had to give it up or die.

"How's college?" she asked.

"It's busy," I said as I stood up. Feeling restless, I began to pace my room.

"I miss you."

Her words cut right through me. Why hadn't she missed me when she had left me on my own to fend for myself? I hated how she could affect me still. The tightening in my chest made me want to disconnect the call and shake off the memories I didn't want to face.

"How are you feeling?" I sidestepped her previous statement, trying to push through the conversation like she hadn't said it.

"Some days are good, some days aren't."

I nodded as I held the phone tighter, biting back the retort that she had brought it on herself. Most days of my childhood had just been bad. I looked out the window, trying to concentrate on the activity outside, wanting to be anywhere but here talking to my mom.

"Do you need anything?" I asked before thinking it through.

Usually I kept our conversations short without any avenue to deviate into a deeper, more meaningful talk that I tried to avoid at all costs.

The silence only increased the foreboding that she was going to take the chance to ask for more than I could give her.

"No, I'm fine," she replied, letting me off the hook.

I suppressed a deep sigh.

"I have to go." The sooner I got this conversation done with the better.

"Okay...I love you."

Closing my eyes briefly, I rode the wave of unwanted emotion her words created in me. For her it was easy to say those words but I hadn't felt loved. I couldn't say words without meaning them and I wondered if I ever would be able to say those same words back to her.

"Bye, Sin."

"Bye."

I disconnected the call and sat down on my bed. For a few moments I stared at my phone, trying to get rid of the feelings I was experiencing. The urge to throw my phone against the wall and watch it shatter was difficult to fight.

I didn't know if we would ever get to a place where I wouldn't still feel anger at her. Alcohol had made her a completely different person. While she had been swinging the bottle and stumbling around in a drunken state, she hadn't cared about anything other than where her next drink was coming from.

The story of a young girl falling for a mysterious rich man only to be left pregnant and alone wasn't new. The strength and character of the girl would shape how she handled it. My mother had spiraled downward and she had never recovered from the rejection. I had been a constant reminder of that.

None of it had been my choice but I had paid the highest price.

The only thing I could thank her for was the fact that she hadn't brought other men into my life. She had been too deeply scarred by my father to allow another in.

Letting out a deep emotional breath, I tried to clear my thoughts. I didn't like to think about the man who was my biological father. He hadn't wanted me and even now it still hurt as much as it had growing up.

Raking my hand through my hair again, I felt my agitation grow.

The young boy who had been forced to toughen up because there had been no adult around to care still lived inside of me. It had been a couple of years since my mother had stopped drinking. Not enough time had passed to even consider forgiveness. But I wasn't sure it was something I would ever be able to do.

My assignment was still open and only half finished but I couldn't concentrate. I got up and went downstairs, needing time before I could tackle the rest of the work.

Slater was playing Xbox. When I slumped into the chair beside the sofa, he stopped his game.

"You wanna play?" he asked.

I shook my head. My mind was still tied up in the phone call.

"I spoke to my mom," I revealed.

Slater put the game controller down on the table. "How's she doing?"

I shrugged. "Same."

He studied me but didn't say anything. He knew me well. There was no need to push me, I would talk when I was ready.

"It's like she's waiting for me to forgive her." My eyes leveled to his. "And I don't know if I can."

If there was anyone in the world who understood, it was Slater.

"You don't have to," he reminded me. It was still my choice.

Would I have regrets if she died and I never got a chance to tell her that despite a crappy childhood and lack of love I forgave her? I didn't want to have to live with more guilt.

There was already plenty of guilt loaded on my shoulders. I had done things I wasn't proud of to survive.

"I didn't forgive mine," he said softly. The haunted look in his eyes reminded me that his had been worse. "And I don't care if I ever see them again."

My situation wasn't the worst. If Slater could deal with his, I could deal with mine.

He reached for the game controller and leaned back into his seat. The conversation was over.

My eyes caught a familiar tattoo on his tattoo sleeve. I looked down at my exact same tattoo. A star with the number seven in the middle.

Although it was surrounded by other tattoos, it stood out for us. It wasn't just some picture or design we had admired and decided to ink into our skin. No, it was more than that. For us it had been a path we had chosen. There hadn't been any other options at the time. Our survival had depended on it.

I didn't allow my thoughts to delve deeper into what the tattoo represented for both of us. I had to find a way to keep my mind clear of things that only brought negative emotions. The only way to do that would be to concentrate on something that would erase all of those thoughts.

An image of the blue-eyed girl with platinum-blond hair appeared, suppressing anything else I had just been thinking about. The heaviness in my chest and the weight on my shoulders lifted. Not only did she look like an ethereal angel, she was just as innocent. Untouched by the harshness of this world.

I wanted her. There was no doubt about it. But if I touched her, I would taint her. Playing with a girl who didn't understand the rules would only bring trouble and pain. I rubbed my temple.

The right thing would be to walk away from her and make sure our paths didn't cross again. But a pull I couldn't explain made me hesitate.