"What?"

I yank back my hand, standing firmly in my place.

"There's a small issue we have to handle," Elijah states calmly.

"And I have to go, why?" I raise a brow, "You are aware that's the place I ran from, right?"

"Yes, Princesa, we'll explain later." Cole places one of his large hands on the small of my back.

(Princess)

Unfortunately, this causes my firm stance to weaken and he easily escorts me out of the office into the elevators. We stand in the elevator, quiet. No one speaks, not even Elijah. The air wasn't tense, the words that had to be exchanged were already spoken. However, the silence still wasn't one of comfort.

As we leave the elevator, I let my mind wander to my mother. If she was dead or alive was not a question I really cared about having the answer to. My heart hurts slightly at the fact that it had to come to this.

Things could have been so different

I will never understand why she took that direction. That is something I'll have to come to terms with on my own.

Mother

Was just a title now. It meant nothing. It has no value.

The woman I called mother brought me life in this world just to make me wish I never had it. It's crazy if you think about it. How ironic the whole situation is. I'd find it humorous if I wasn't the one living it.

Getting into the vehicle, I sit next to Cole. Elijah across from Cole.

They begin talking amongst each other, about other affairs that needed to be handled. They did not talk about why we were going 'home'.

I don't really care, I have a good guess anyway

My thoughts are again consumed:

I don't have a home. I don't have a place that I can call a safe haven. There is no place in this world that I long to be. I feel like I should be more heartbroken than I currently am.

But I'm not

What does that mean? Does that mean I'm numb? Do I want to be numb?

In order to answer that last question, I must first remember how I felt before the crash. Happiness is all that comes to mind. The quiet distant laughter of my younger self is all that I can picture. I'm slightly angry at myself for all the times I cried back then.

Back then I didn't know true sorrow.

I shouldn't have taken those times for granted, but it's not my fault. One day I'm playing with barbie dolls and the next I'm attending two funerals. I couldn't have seen it coming.

The car halts, signaling that we have arrived at our designation.

The boys get out of the car. Cole turns and offers me his hand. A small smile makes it's way to my face. I'd blush if I wasn't in such a bad mood.

Elijah kicks open the door. Which I'm pretty sure was unnecessary because the lock is broken.

Mother slammed my head into it during one of her beatings. It shifted the knob sideways so now it doesn't lock right. Pain is triggered in the back of my head at that thought.

I can smell the distinctive beer stench that embraced the walls. I would say about five bodyguards were stationed outside of the house. I walked in after Cole, looking around slowly. The bathroom door still open. I catch a glimpse at the red floor. Phantom pain can be felt from my thigh.

Luckily, I have amazing stitching skills and one hell of a stubborn mentality

For the most part, the place looked the same from when I'd left it. Bottles still all over the place, blood scattered across the floor. It's still as shitty.

"Why is her blood all over the bathroom floor?" Elijah asks me as he scans the downstairs.

"It's not hers," I walk past him, "It's mine."

A guilty expression crosses his face, yet I ignore it looking around. His loud footsteps pound on the stairs. I wasn't even aware he had moved from in front of me. As he rears around the corner I can see the large objects lying across his shoulders. With a closer look, I identify it as a body.

From the frail outline and the horrible stench, I already know who it is.

"What the hell are you doing with her?" The question comes out tired.

"She's been doing a lot of talking since you've left," He starts, "She's become a safety hazard."

I take a quick glance at Cole only to see him already staring back at me. Eyes instance and stare deep.

"So what are you doing with her?" I ask again because he went around the question the first time. These boys seem to make a habit at that.

"Bringing her in."

***

Walking into the dark, stone room. Old bloodstains litter the floor, which I can only conclude to be from past residents.

After taking our mother from the house, Elijah shoved her unconscious body into the trunk and we drove to the gang house. There were multiple rooms down in the 'lower level' as they called it. Some filled with people and some weren't. I can tell the people weren't there because they wanted to be.

As we got to the end of the hallway, I see the chair my mother was chained to. I also see the table of knives next to her.

"Hello, mom." Elijah mocks.

Both boys step up into the light. I, however, decide to stay back.

"Miss me?" He continues the mocking by circling her in the chair.

"Eli?" Her voice soft, littered in disbelief, "That can't be you. You're dead,"

"Well, I'm not." He spits, "And that's not what our meeting is about today,"

Elijah picks up a small knife, twirling it in his hands.

"I've heard about the orders you've given on the street," He walks back towards Cole, "You want a certain someone dead, is that right?"

The small hand movement he does behind his back means for me to step forward - so I do.

"Here she is."

I should be surprised that I'm the one she wants dead, but I'm just simply not. She's a woman with no limits, no murals. I could feel my jaw tighten.

So many fucking beatings over the years. So many hateful words thrown into my face. All from this woman, she has continued to make me not only hate myself but hate everyone around me.

"Your sister has changed," She starts to sneer, "She's a worthless bitch now, a good for nothing slut."

Cole's hand tightens into a fist. I hate the fact that he's hearing this, I hate that he hears the disgusting words she says about me. I know it's not true, what she says about me. What if he thinks it is, though?

"Fuck you," I scoff, it could almost be mistaken for a chuckle.

It was everything but humorous

"What did you say to me?" Her voice controlling, I never noticed it before.

I lift my head, staring her dead in her eyes.

"Fuck. You." I space my words out this time, making sure she heard me clearly.

Only this time, I am hiding nothing

"You are the worthless bitch," I state, walking closer to her, "I worked every day to pay the bills, to pay for your hideous addiction,"

I smirk, "Tell me, mother, what drug are you on now? Is it crack? Or are we back to heroin?"

This felt good, belittling her as she did to me all these years.

"You're the cause of it-"

Her smart reply was cut off by me pressing a knife into her thigh. The exact placement of the wound on mine.

"What am I the cause of?" I start twisting the sharp object.

Her cries fill the stone room, they bounce off the walls returning to my ears.

"I use to lie in my bed at night and wonder why you didn't love me. I use to rack my juvenile brain to think of anything I could've done that night to change the outcome," My voice wasn't soft, it wasn't even emotional. I wasn't spewing my heart to her.

"I prayed that I wouldn't wake up. I thought that was what would make you happy.," I stop twisting the knife looking back onto the tray of pretty little tools, "Now that I see what a piece shit you are,"

I decide on a hammer.

"I no longer give a shit."

CRUNCH

One-finger

CRUNCH

Two-finger

CRUNCH

Three-finger

"All those years, hopelessly trying to see the good in you," I throw the hammer to the side, "I felt like I was waiting for something that wasn't going to happen."

Grabbing a bigger knife, I turn my attention to her other hand.

"I was right."

Stabbing it was a quick in and out, she didn't even have time to scream.

"Nothing hurts more than being disappointed by the person you never thought would hurt you," I look back at my mother.

"I'm talking to a brick wall, aren't I?" I shake my head lightly, "That's okay. This isn't about wanting you to change."

I look at the table grabbing the small gun that stared up at me.