To the talented ones who continue to dance with words, creating their own melody.

dustychalks

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"I think you've still got some cheese on your cheek."

"Not falling for that," I chuckled.

"But seriously though, you were like a wild animal with those nachos," he remarked, an amused smile on his face. "I didn't expect you to eat anything."

"Because I seem like the girl who always orders a salad?" I looked towards him, as he continued to drive.

He took his time while answering. "Well, yeah," he said slowly. "And I know that you'll probably call me a hypocrite for categorizing you in a certain way or judging you, when I myself am a victim of the whole vicious cycle. But..."

He paused.

"We're all victims in one way or another," I spoke softly, my eyes on his face. "We've been hurt by others and we've hurt others too."

"It's funny, isn't it? How there's not a bad guy or a good guy in real life. It's just everyone's a mixture of everything, bad and good."

There was silence between us for a while before I asked, "So what would that make you?"

Ace glanced over to me with a raised eyebrow.

"That probably makes you a good bad boy," I said and his lips twitched.

"A good bad boy, indeed..." He murmured under his breath and a few seconds later, the car came to a stop and he looked at me again, studying me. He had parked outside of my house.

I sat up straight and rubbed my eyes. I had started to get sleepy and was having a hard time keeping my eyes open. "Thanks," I stifled a yawn and opened the door.

"For the fingering? You're more than welcome to it again."

I made a face and hit his arm, causing his smile to widen. "I meant for the food."

"Sure you did."

I was about to retort but from the corner of my eye, I caught the front door of my house opening and watched in surprise as my mother came into view. She had a furious expression on her face as she stood there, glaring at the both of us.

"Shìt..."

I was more annoyed than worried at being caught so late out. This meant that my mom would give me another lecture and right now the only thing I was in the mood for, was sleep.

I sighed loudly as I stepped out of the car. "See you later."

Ace flashed me a thumbs-out. "I don't think I'm welcome to your house anytime soon, though."

I leaned down just before closing the door. "Even if you were, don't flatter yourself by thinking that I would've invited you."

I caught sight of his smile just before I closed the door and walked around the car to get home. I heard him drive away as I reached my mom and braced myself. She was blocking the entrance and I didn't miss the disappointment in her eyes. The look that she was giving me right now was the look that always made me feel guilty and so I avoided her eyes.

"Its three a.m," she said, her voice strained as if she were holding back a lot of things that she wanted to say.

"Awww, shucks. That's way past my bedtime."

She lowered her head and her shoulders drooped. A pang of guilt stabbed me when I saw her like that. With her arms folded around her, her head bowed in defeat and her greying hair covering her tired face. It was like all the fight in her was gone. I did this to her, I realized in regret. I didn't know that just one sarcastic comment could bring her to this.

But it hadn't been just one comment, it was the constant ongoing arguments and fights that we'd been having. It was when I never listened and when she had to turn to someone as unreliable as Jared, for help.

I know I should say something. I should apologize or try to make up for it but the damage had already been done. I had destroyed her.

"Come inside," she almost whispered and I obeyed as she moved a little, allowing me space.

When we were both inside, she started towards the stairs without another word. I heard her open her bedroom door and close it too but I remained standing there.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, shameful tears springing to my eyes. "I'm so sorry."

----

I slept in and didn't go to school the next day. My mom didn't say anything. In fact she hadn't uttered a single word to me that morning and she even left for work early, leaving Mary with me. I sat down on the couch with Mary in my arms. She was whimpering so I grabbed a chew toy and handed it to her.

Maybe it was a bit weird how much I loved Mary - considering she was my stepsister.

The fact remained that Jared, Mary's biological father, AKA the sperm donor, was a shìthead and I hated that man with every fiber in my body but Mary... I couldn't hate her. How was it her fault her father was the way he was?

Of course I hadn't warmed up to my little sister right away. I had hated her in the beginning too because she was the living, breathing proof of my mother's careless and desperate mistake. And my mother had to live with that. I had to live with that. I had to tolerate the late night cries and foul smell of baby diapers and I couldn't understand why we had to put up with that.

Where was the guy who was responsible for bringing her into this world? Why was he off the hook and shàgging a different whōre every night. Why didn't he take responsibility?

I don't think that my mother truly forgave herself completely to this day. She still blames herself for being careless while having a one night fling.

After my father passed away in a car accident, my mother vowed that she would never love anyone else the way she loved my dad. But as the years went by and the loneliness grew and spread around her like unwatched weeds, she started drinking for a while. I had been only twelve when she had started and at thirteen, my curiosity got the better of me and I drank from time to time when my mother was passed out on the living room couch. It got worse when she would stay out late and our roles reversed.

I was the concerned fifteen year old daughter and she was the careless wild mom, making out with strangers. As time went by, I had to get a driving license just so I could drive her home myself because I was too afraid of putting her behind the wheel. Then, one night she had stumbled home by herself and as soon as I rushed to steady her, she broke down at the sight of me. She was mumbling incoherently and I put her to bed, ignoring her. When she woke up the next day, she was awfully quiet. She didn't go out that night or the night after that. She threw out all her bottles of liquor and I was relieved that she had decided to clean up her act.

It was two weeks later that she revealed an alarming piece of news to me. She was pregnant.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Shouldn't it be the mother who should be keeping an eye on her daughter and advising her to stay away from sèx?

Why were we like this? When had our roles switched and we had become like this? Why were we so messed up, so damaged beyond repair? Why were we so broken, so full of cracks?

I yelled at her. I cried and I yelled at her. She was already crying. I locked myself in the bathroom and cried until I couldn't anymore. I didn't talk to my mother for two days and on the third, I told her to get an abortion. As soon as the words had left my mouth, she had looked up at me with so much shock and pain in them, that I had to look away. It was as if I were inflicting a severe punishment on her.

"No."

One word. That was all she said but she said it with such fierce determination that I found no voice to reply with.

I hated her then. I hated the fact that she wanted to have the baby when it was a mistake. They couldn't have a baby, they were already so close to shattering. They couldn't take care of themselves, they'd ruin the baby. But no force on earth could change my mother's mind.

She had called Jared and told him the news. He had hung up after telling her to never call him again. She tried calling after a few days but he had changed his number. My mom was still going to have the baby. She worked hard.

She found a new job and even worked extra hours. She cleaned the house and bought a cradle with her first paycheck. Since we didn't have any extra rooms, she placed the cradle upstairs in her room.

She tracked down Jared and talked to him face to face but he bluntly told her that she should just get an abortion and get it over with. She didn't.

In fact, what he said only fueled her even more and she worked so hard that she got promoted. We moved to a better location and to a better house. This time, it was me who was staying out late and partying. It started out as a rebellion to get back at my mother but I started getting addicted to it. I slept around. Girls knew me and were jealous of me because guys treated me like a queen. I was getting popular. I got meaner as I started to get the hang of the whole high school game. I used people to my advantage and then just as easily discarded them.

It got to the point where I was forced to play the game even when I didn't want to. And so I played and I continued playing, all the way to the top. Meanwhile, my mother went into labor and had the baby a few hours later. I was the first one to hold Mary. I never admitted it out loud but I got a bit emotional when I held her. She felt like she was mine. She was so tiny and helpless that I naturally felt protective of her and my hands around her tightened. Then, I passed her to my mother and stood back, my emotions all jumbled up.

When Mary and my mom came back home, I started spending nights out. I was never home unless I really needed to be. I even got a part time job at Zara so that I had an excuse to not be home. But then my mother also had to go to work and I was forced to babysit Mary on the rare occasions that our neighbors couldn't do it.

I forced myself not to like her. I wanted to hate Mary and for a time, I did. Even if she wasn't her father, she still had his blood in her veins. But my hard exterior eroded overtime as I started spending more and more time with her. I saw her smile for the first time and my heart melted.

I couldn't blame a baby for something that happened before she came into this world. She wasn't responsible. My mother was and she hadn't taken her responsibility lightly. I had seen her work and struggle for it. It was the bàstard Jared who didn't want any part of this.

I looked down at Mary now and grazed my knuckles across her soft check. "Mary," I cooed and she graced me with one of her dimpled smiles again.

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