I reminisce the events of early this morning:

Jagger was singing loudly in the kitchen before she arrived, mixing the batter for a batch of sugar cookies. I believe he was attempting to conceal his emotions from the previous night, in an effort to show me that all would be well.

"God--what the hell are we going to do..." the night before he sent a rhetorical question to heaven,  when he though I could not hear. A bird twittered outside his window, the sun beginning her daily route. I turned under my sheets.

"...the world is ugly," his voice, deep with a tasteful rasp, complimenting each lyric, filled the kitchen. "But you're beautiful to me..."

Sommer smiled. She did not see the burn on her brother's neck. She was oblivious to his scars.

"I just wanted you to know..." Jagger belted out the lyrics from the bridge of the song.

Sommer began mixing the batter with her hands as it got thick with flour. As though nothing unfortunate had happened, and as though nothing unfortunate would happen, she smiled, beamed really. And I smiled, too, for Sommer, for she did not know.

"I'm thinking of you, every night, every day..." Titus entered the house, joining Jagger with the backup harmonies. I noted his eyes were their natural colour.

"These are the lies and the lives of the taken, these are their hearts but their hearts don't beat like ours," they sang together. It would have been beautiful if I could have ceased reliving the events of that previous night.

"Did I leave my contacts here?" Titus asked, walking into the living room.

I wondered if Titus knew.

"Stop your crying, helpless feeling, dry your eyes and start believing," Jagger's voice cracked. I felt as though I was the only one who knew why. "There's one think they'll never take from you..." he stopped. It would have sounded natural to the song if the circumstances were different.

That was when I saw her.

She was walking down the crumbled pavement, chin high, watching where she put her shoes. She wore a gray high-waisted skirt with a black blouse, hair pulled back tightly. I had become accustomed to the extravagance of the Class C society and was no longer used to the simplicity of the Purebreds. We made eye contact through the cracked kitchen window. I shuttered.

"Metro?" Jagger and Sommer followed my glance.

I must have appeared highly foolish, standing there, staring blankly out of the window as though I had been frozen. Sommer touched my shoulder when she saw. She had never seen my mother before, but recognized the woman straight away.

"We have to hide you," Jagger spoke quietly, taking me by the arm.

"No," I replied softly. "She has seen me already. It will only cause a greater conflict." I remained emotionless. Seeing my mother's face again rekindled such feelings.

"Metro," Jagger's voice carried hints of anger. "What's she gonna do to us? She'll send the authorities here and have us taken away, I'm sure if it. What the hell--"

A brisk knock at the door.

Sommer, Jagger and I looked to each other in a helpless surrender.

"Metro Riverton, open this door at once." Her voice was stern, lacking anger, laced with embarrassment, as though that action were her final resort.

She did not wait for me to open the door for her; she simply walked inside, her shoes clicking against the plastic flooring. She stood before us in the kitchen, arms crossed in disapproval.

"You appear utterly ridiculous," she stated plainly. "And you," she gestured to Jagger, pointing a slender finger, "you work at the educational establishment, do you not? Sickening."

She glanced at Sommer, then back at me, suspicion in her eyes.

"Now, Metro, or shall I refer to you as Lex?" She walked near me, gripping my shoulder. "This foolish act of immaturity must come to an end. It is time for you to return to your studies."

"And if I refuse?"

She laughed confidently.

"Did I hear a knock at the door?" Titus' voice rang down the corridor. "I still can't find--" he stopped mid-sentence upon entering the kitchen. My mother turned around briskly.

Titus stood frozen, eyes wide, His identical to those in which he was staring at. My mother gaped at him. I continue to wonder what emotions must have been spiraling throughout her mind; seeing this child of hers for the first time in 19 years.

Her demeanor of confidence vanished at the sight of her first son. She did not say a word. Taking advantage of her moment of weakness, I stood beside Titus.

"You..." She wanted to speak but did not have words to say. Her hard expression softened. Her upper lip quivered.

"Ti--" She drew her hands to her flushed face. "Titus?"

He stood in silence. Anger burned within his eyes, though he did not speak.

"Does he look familiar, Mother?" I questioned bitterly.

She looked to me, a scowl replacing her shocked expression. She took my arm. I pulled it out of her grasp.

"Metro we must leave."

I refused.

"Metro you--you..." She stood, flustered. "You cannot remain in this community."

I remained.

"You are not aware of the danger you are associating yourselves with," she addressed each individual in the room.

"We appreciate your concern," I spoke, words dripped with bitterness. "But you have contributed quite enough."

"Where are your coloured contact lenses?" my mother said rather suddenly, addressing Titus.

"I came here to look for them," he stated plainly.

"Do.." she hesitated. "Do you function--" she stuttered. "...normally? Your brain patterns, I mean?"

"I get migraines."

"Frequently?"

"Like...once a week maybe."

"That is all?"

"And the odd seizure."

"How--Are you successful achedemically? How are you social skills?"

"Normal I guess."

"Very well." She kept her eyes to the floor.

Her face was filled with a look of concern I had never seen before. A wave of emotion lined her eyes and face. She appeared as though she meant to apologize, but could not sacrifice her pride enough to say the words.

"If you cannot find your contact lenses, I will have a fresh pair sent for you."

"You're a saint," Titus stated, resentfully.

She looked to him, her confidence shattered. I wanted to beg her, force her to simply say the words and apologize. But I knew she could never, would never lower, herself to such a weak action.

"Metro." She turned to exit the house. "We must return to our rightful society."

I shook my head.

I expected her to stay and continue to argue with me, but she did not. She exited the house, avoiding eye contact with Titus while doing so.

"I am sorry," I stated upon her exit.

Jagger walked to comfort Titus, who stood, breathing heavily, his feet planted firmly on the ground, jaw set. Jagger looked to me, great concern in his face, in which only I could have recognized in that moment. He knew that the situation would become greatly problematic if I did not do something to calm it. He came to the same conclusion that I had come to:

I could not stay there.

My mother was aware of my pseudonym, Lex. It was logical to come to the conclusion that she had my actions under surveillance. I could not stay and threaten the lives of my friends; I had brought enough disorder into their lives.

It was not long after my mother's exit that I realized I had no choice in the matter. I realized the meaning to my dream nights ago. I realized the pure authority my mother had over me, pressing buttons, making connections, turning me into her puppet. She controled my actions, and would continue to control them.

Without speaking a word to my friends, I ran out of the house, to my mother. Athena Riverton smiled.

"I knew you would eventually comply, Metro." She refused to look at me. "You are foolish, but you are a smart boy."

Her cruel confidence had returned.