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It's been a little over an hour since Zhayne left, and I've still seen no sign of my mother yet. I haven't been able to do much but sit still, think and worry. Sitting here in my old bedroom hasn't provided me with as much relief as I initially thought I would. I'm still scared and on edge.

I stared at the ring and twisted it around my finger, watching as the large diamond glimmered with every slight movement. I never thought that one piece of jewelry would be so dreadful to look at. The awful feeling this ring gives me is indescribable. Getting engaged is something one is supposed to feel over the moon about, but it has managed to send me in a downward spiral. I haven't been able to think straight since he slid this onto my finger.

I wanted to take it off for the sake of my mother not seeing it but I was so scared of what Zhayne would do to me. I know he'd find out somehow, so I wanted to prevent any sort of trouble. But at the same time how can I manage to hide this from her? So many things have changed and I'm sure she'll begin to ask questions and expect answers at some point. But what the fuck would I say?

I sighed, feeling the tears build up but I held them back. I was much too exhausted to cry. Everything was overwhelming at the moment, but thinking too deeply about things wouldn't get me anywhere. Being with Zhayne for these last couple of months has taught me that above anything else. There's not much sense in dwelling on it if there's nothing I can do about it.

Ugh. I ran my hands over my face in frustration. I hadn't even got the chance to enjoy being in the comfort of my own home because I was too busy letting my mind take over everything else. My mind now...it's a very dangerous thing. At times I wish I could shut it up but I couldn't. I can't. I was going to search for something to distract myself when I abruptly heard the familiar sound of keys.

My heart nearly stopped beating as I was moving on my feet before I could even think of anything else. I silently thanked whoever is out there for the sudden interruption. I was rushing down the stairs and standing in the middle of the living room, waiting for the door to open.

My body shook as felt my throat tighten up. I promised myself that I wouldn't be emotional. It will be hard, but I have to be strong. I can't show any sign of weakness in front of her. At least, not anymore. I clenched my hands into fists and remembered to hide them in my sleeves to prevent her from seeing the ring.

A couple of seconds later, I saw her. My mother, in one piece. For just a quick moment I saw her eyes light up for the first time in years, letting me know that she was truly happy to see me, as I was her. More than she could ever know.

She smile widely and dropped the bags she had been holding before she made her way over to me in a hurry with her arms open, ready to take me in as she always did whenever we separated for long periods of time. I met her halfway and embraced her tightly in my hold, not giving her a chance to close the door.

Having my mother in my arms again felt so surreal. I couldn't begin to process this fully. It seemed as if it were too good to be true. I thought I'd never see her again. I pulled her closer to me and stuffed my face in her neck, enjoying the feeling of being whole once again even if it were only for a little bit. I would take this over nothing.

After holding one another in silence for at least a minute or two, she pulled back and placed both of her cold hands on my cheeks, taking in my appearance. "My baby. How've you been holding up?" She cooed, stroking my face with her thumbs. I answered her with a small good, to keep it short and sweet. "Where were you? You weren't here when I got home earlier." She informed me, placing a kiss on my forehead before gathering the grocery bags with my help and closing the door, heading for the kitchen.

I sat down in one of the stools as she began to unpack all that she'd bought. "Sorry...I was out...somewhere." I told her. She clearly wasn't fond of my reply, judging by the way she side eyed me as she put a jar of strawberry jam in the fridge.

"My son? Going out? What the hell did I miss?" I bit my lip, not wanting to think about how much of a negative turn this conversation would take if we continued down this route, so I silently hoped she wouldn't proceed with the questioning.

I know she wanted to ask me about so much. I could see it all in her face. She deserved to know why I haven't been answering the phone for months on end, and why I haven't been attending school but I can't tell her. At least, not now. And I don't even want to think about what I will have to say when the truth eventually comes out, because it always does.

"Look," She said with a sigh, shutting the fridge door when she finished storing everything inside of it. "Right now I only want to enjoy my time with my son after not seeing him for a long while. I won't immediately result to fussing at you as soon as I walk in the door." Mom said, placing a hand on her hip. I was in the midst of releasing a sigh of relief when she said something else. "I'll save that for later."

"But as of right now," she pulls something out of one of the drawers before situating herself in a seat across from me. "Here." She slid something over to me, tapping on the cover of it. I looked down at it before meeting her eye again. I asked her what it was. "Late birthday present." She told me, not fully answering my question, but I accepted it anyway and pulled it closer to me, inspecting it closely.

At first I didn't recognize it, but as I began to examine each detail carefully I remembered exactly what it was. It was the photo album of our families memories that I've been asking my mom for, for years now. For the first time in a long time, I felt a genuine smile stretch across my face as I softly brushed my fingers over the cover. "Holy shit." I mumbled, thinking she couldn't hear me. I tore my focus away from the photo book and looked back at mom. "Thank you so much."

She cracks a small smile, adoration peaking through her gaze. "You know how much I loved that thing." I do. The slowly aging yet beautiful blonde haired woman chuckled, her laugh echoing throughout the dining room. She then fiddled with the ring on her finger, a bittersweet emotion taking over her features as she stared down at it.

"I never wanted to let it go. A lot of the pictures in there are of you and your father, so I didn't want to give it up. I felt a sense of comfort looking back on how things used to be." She released a sigh. "But I've decided it's time you have it. I've grown attached to it in the most unhealthy way, it was getting worrisome. At a point in time it was the only thing keeping me going."

I nodded my head. I knew very well. When everything was still fresh, my mother never let this thing go since it meant everything to her. The only memories of my father she had left were in this book and this book alone. She never let it out of her sight, as the image of his face kept her sane.

I looked down at it for a moment, holding it to my chest as I thought. Maybe I shouldn't keep it? I know how much this means to her. I bit my lip as I went back and forth in my head for a while, trying to figure out what I should do. God himself knows I wanted this more than anything, but I wasn't sure if she was really ready to give it up just yet. "Are...are you sure, mom?" I asked. "I mean- I can give-" she lifted a hand, silencing me and that let me know not to continue any further. If I tempted her she'd change her mind.

"No, baby. It's okay, you can have it. I already had my time with it and now it's your turn." She assured me. "Besides, I took what I wanted out of there beforehand anyways. The rest is all yours." Mom added with another smile. I mirrored her expression wholeheartedly. I couldn't help but feel warm inside at the sight. I missed her so fucking much. Words were not enough to explain how overjoyed I feel to be able to see her again face to face. And safe, at that.

Before meeting her, I was scared and dreading the whole ordeal. I was scared that something terrible would happen to her or the both of us. But now that I'm with her seeing how content she looks, I feel at peace. It's almost as if Zhayne never existed in the first place. The company of the woman who raised me made me forget that evil does indeed exist, and that I am soon to be married to a man worse than the devil could ever be.

I brushed the negative thoughts that I could feel creeping in on me to the back of my mind as I laid the book flat on the table and opened it up to take a look at the first page. There were already a whole bunch of pictures stuffed inside of the clear plastic fold, and a couple had fallen out before I could get to them. I picked up the first one I saw and looked at the writing on the back of it.

I turned it over and looked at the opposite side and I immediately wanted to turn the photo over. I glanced up at my mom and grimaced in disgust. Couldn't have this been one of the pictures she kept? I quickly showed it to her, which prompted the older woman to release a loud laugh in amusement. I shivered in distaste. In what way was this funny?

"You always were a fan of being dramatic." She commented and wiped the underside of her eyes after calming down from fits of laughter. "Looking at it is nothing compared to the pain I went through pushing you out. Suck it up and look at the picture. I didn't give it up for you to whine about something so small."

I had to agree. I couldn't even begin to imagine the agony of pushing another human being from inside of you. Letting out a breath I looked at the picture again, bracing myself for what I was going to have to see. If I'm being honest it shouldn't faze me as I've seen much worse than the photo alone at this point in my life but I couldn't help but still feel a bit squeamish because this time is different. It's my mother I'm talking about.

My gaze traveled to the much younger version of my mother, who was clearly in a lot of pain. I could also make out the blurry image of my father leaning over her, clutching onto her hand. He seemed to be whispering in ear, trying to comfort her. Though it was evident that it did nothing to help. The woman was irritable and in pain.

Right as the picture was taken, her mouth was agape as if she were screaming. Beads of sweat covered her face and her eyes were blown wide open with thick streams of tears rushing down her flushed cheeks. There was a pool of blood spilling from her legs and thighs in the midst dripping onto the white tile floor as doctors rushed to assist her after giving birth to me.

"Had to get stitches, by the way." She informed me. Sarcastically chuckling, I decided I was done with the picture after that. Having had enough, I pushed that one aside and picked up another one, feeling much more comfortable with this image than the last. I know that it was natural, but seeing my mother in such a horrible state wasn't something that sat well with me. It triggered something dreadful from within myself.

I brought my attention back to the picture. The label on the back of it said the exact same thing as the one before, so I knew it was from the same day of my birth. In this photo, mom was visibly more relaxed and it had obviously been taken some time much later. She lie in the hospital bed with an exhausted yet bright grin on her face as she held me in her arms for the very first time. The corners of her swollen eyes crinkled, and her deep dimples, which I've inherited from her, were prominent. That let me know that she was genuinely smiling. Something that's so rare from her these days.

I couldn't see too much of myself, as most of my small body had been covered up with the baby blanket that was given to us from the hospital. I could only see the side of my face and my right hand which was wrapped around my mother's ring finger. "Despite the hell I went through getting you out of me, I still wish I could turn back time and do it all over again just to experience that moment once more." She tapped the back of the picture, already knowing what I was looking at judging by the look on my face. "I gave birth to the love of my life that day."

I huffed. "Please don't make me cry. I've been holding it together so well, mom. Don't." I pleaded her, and with all seriousness. During my time spent with her I don't want to shed any tears at all, whether happy or sad. I don't care. I'm so tired of crying all the time. It's gotten to the point where it makes me sick.

"No seriously, Ange. You know you're my world." She took the picture from my hands and looked at it herself, trailing her eyes over every detail in the photo of us. "Wow, you were so tiny back then." She shook her head, almost in disbelief. "Well, you still are but," now I definitely wasn't going to cry. "You've grown up to become so beautiful, baby." I faintly heard her mumble something about my father and her having great genes but I ignored it, feeling flustered. I never did like compliments, they made me feel really weird.

I picked up the next one and felt chills run up and down my spine as I did. And for the first time in months, it wasn't the bad kind, it felt good. My heart swelled in my chest as I took in the image of me in my father's arms. He stood beside the hospital bed next to my mother as she held one of his hands, looking up at him with nothing but admiration shining in her then, aqua blue eyes.

He held me securely in his other arm as he stared down at my clueless little face with an expression similar to my mother's. I ran my fingers over his features, realizing how much I looked like him. Mom would always tell me that I was the spitting image of my father but I never really noticed it. There was hardly a difference between the two of us aside from the drastic gap in age, which of course would change a few things.

It wasn't until I stared at that picture for too long that I felt the tears sting my eyes. "Fuck, don't start crying. You have to stop doing that shit Angel." I whispered to myself and continued to suck it up as I set the picture aside and picked up another one. I saw mom look at it after I was done to have a look for herself. When I felt like I pulled myself together, I looked at the next.

I tilted my head to the side as I stared at this picture in particular. My mother, father and I were all in the photo, but I wasn't being held by either of them. I narrowed my gaze, taking a closer look as I soon became confused. My mom seemed to still be in the same position in the bed while my dad wasn't too far from her, but he seemed to be having a conversation with someone, who's back was facing me. And that someone was holding me as they conversed with my father.

"Hey, uh, mom, who is this-?" I squinted, looking closer to see if I remembered them but I couldn't. "Who's holding me in this picture?" I asked, turning it around so that she could look at it. She tore her focus away from the one she was looking at before and brought her attention to the photo I held up. She went still for a moment just like I did as her eyes trailed over the mysterious picture.

But that didn't last for too long. The confused expression left her features as she very slowly reached out in front of her and removed the photo from my hands, never tearing her focus off of it. I became even more confused, watching her eyes slowly widen. "Do you not know?-"

"An old friend." She responded barely above a whisper, like she said it more to herself than me. "Hey- Uh, I'll hold onto this one, Ange." Without giving me the chance to decline, she took the photo off of the table. I was going to ask her what the hell was that all about, but I let it go. I'm really enjoying this right now and I don't want to ruin it. I could tell it would be a bother if I pressed further. I left it alone.

I decided I've had enough of the pictures for now, so I put them back and closed the book. I was definitely looking forward to seeing the rest of these. The book was quite thick, so I knew I would be in for more than I originally thought. "I still can't get over this." I changed the subject as silence suddenly took over the atmosphere.

Mom shifted her gaze from the wall behind me to look at me. She smiled again, but it was much smaller this time. She'd given me the smile I've become used to seeing so often throughout the years. "I still can't believe I had the courage to give it up." I held the book close to my chest once more, cherishing it.

"By the way," she started, lifting a brow. "Since when did you start cursing?" She questioned me. For a moment I was puzzled at her question and hadn't realized I did so. Had it slipped from my mouth so casually that I didn't even notice? What the hell is happening to me?

"I..I don't know...recently."

She rolled her eyes and slid the glass mug on the counter to the side as she crossed her arms. "How long ago is recently, Ange? I've been gone for a couple of months only to come back to my son cursing like a sailor." I paused at her words, knowing she was right.

"I don't think it's too much of a big deal. Everyone curses. Nothing's changed, really." I mumbled. That was a blatant lie and I felt guilty for saying it.

That seemed to perplex her. "What do you mean? You wouldn't dare curse in front of me." She said, narrowing her eyes. "I'm starting to think I made a mistake, allowing you to stay here alone for this long."

"You've done it before many times, mom. You travel for a living. I've been fine on my own." I told her, but she shook her head and seemed to be reading me in the process. Knowing how my mother is when it comes to figuring me out I quickly became paranoid. Subconsciously, I stuffed my hands further inside of my sleeves to ensure that the large diamond ring was still hidden, nearly ripping the thick clothe of the sweater like material.

"No..." she ran her dull blue eyes over my frame, causing me to shrink under her powerful gaze. I had forgotten how intimidating this woman could be at times. "I know my son better than anything else in this world. This time is different. You don't think I know something's changed? Angel, you're my son. I know you."

"I don't...I don't know what you mean."

"What are you hiding, Ange?" She asked me, getting straight to the point. Damn. She was never a fan of beating around the bush. I could never fool this woman which was why I attempted to keep myself from looking the least bit suspicious. She knew me like the back of her hand and it was angering.

"Nothing."

"Don't bullshit me."

"I'm not."

"Then tell me what's that on your neck? You've done a terrible job covering it up." She trailed her eyes toward a small bruise Zhayne had left on my collarbone that I thought I'd hidden with the sweater. I went still in fear. Much to my horror, it had done nothing to help my case.

"I fell."