To the Bastard who married our sister.

Stephen,

 Such a simple thing I have to tell you, but because you are too simple to understand tis three-word sentence, I'll have to explain it to you. GET A JOB.

Oh, you know, the thing that your wife and my sister is working three of? One for each of your kids, I guess. Then again, she would need a fourth because of the fourth child she's carrying around: you. You are a selfish, immature child who can't take responsibility for your actions or comprehend what the person you swore to love and protect is dealing with. THREE. JOBS. Two full time, one part time, working with no sleep what-so-ever, sometimes going right from one job to the next, then having to return to a dirty house and children who still need to be bathed, fed, and changed while you're passed out on the couch from a busy day of videogaming.

What's worse, you even scold her for having so many jobs. You told her to quit her second job at good old Kmart, she did, you yelled at her for it. She got another job, and you yelled at her for it. Well, YOU sure as hell aren't making any effort to keep your house and three kids and wife fed and with a roof over your heads, so she has to wear the pants and support the family in whatever way she can. She's working herself to death, kid. Running on little to no sleep, being a mother of three kids(ages 4 and under) as well as a midnight shift manager, a waitress, and a country club worker, and then having to deal with your bullshit, it's no wonder why she looked like death when she stopped by my house this morning. Even worse, it sounded like she was coming down with bronchitis.

You buy whatever the hell you want with HER money, forget about HER children more often than not, and then treat HER like crap when she gets home. What did she do to deserve such under-appreciation? If anything you should be kissing the ground beneath her feet and you yourself should act like the proper housewife, making sure the children are fed, clean, and asleep by the time she comes home to get ready for her midnight shift. You don't even do that on most occasions.

If you won't at least give her that, then get out of her life. Give her the kids that she's busting her ass to provide for, and move with your parents to Florida. We all know that's why you won't look for a job anyway.

Go Fuck Yourself and Have a Nice Day,
Nova and Kaitylee

Bonded By Death, random scene

At first, it was nothing out of the ordinary. I was a little girl with unruly copper hair and a fairly skinny frame, living off of my momma's pay. It was one of the few times I saw her laughing, playing silly clapping games with me. I was only eight years old, and although she was 24 she looked as if she aged three years for every year she lived. Feeling her bony fingers against mine, frail palm against frail palm, my innocent mind thought that everyone was supposed to be that skinny and malnourished. And yet, for someone so worn down from whatever her work was, my momma was the prettiest and happiest girl I knew. She was my hero.

Until the door slammed open, taking both momma and I by surprise. Immediately she tensed up, eyes wide, pushing me aside. Suddenly everything's a blur. I hear him screaming words I was told to never repeat, I hear momma pleading and  yelling at me, physically moving me. "Go to your room, hurry!" I listen, running as fast as I can, yet I know he's right behind me. I hear banging on the wall, clashing of what little furniture we have, and his excessive cursing. Just as I reach my door, It's too late. I feel my bones cave in, my lungs almost giving out as the man without a face smashes my body against the floor. His words rape my skull as his body does the rest.

"You're gonna be just like that bitch, you little whore.."

I try to scream out, yet my little lungs won't let me. "Momma! Help! Get off! I-it hurts!"

Help.
HELP!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My eyes fly open, and the screaming immediately ceases. I'm pushed into the chest of a man, and it takes only a second to realize it's my master. I'm sobbing, my face laden with tears and terror. I can finally breathe again, and although the man without a face is not there, though my awful memory has stopped, my entire body aches as it did that day. I weakly wrap my arms around him, trying to stifle my sobs. I hear his voice, full of emotions I can't place.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Mina?Are you alright?"

My brain is still trying to make sense of his words as he lightly pushes me back, tilting my head up so our eyes meet. I see worry, anger.. grief? Could that be possible? I've never once seen a grief stricken Master, not even after the fire took place. I feel my muscles loosen as he massages my shoulders gently, not taking his eyes off of mine. Again he speaks, yet his words are now clear.

"Was it a nightmare?"

I shake my head, and find my voice. "A memory." It is hoarse, weak. Just like the rest of me. I force my tears back.

"A step father?" I shake my head.
"One of you mother's clients." This is not a question. My eyes widen in shock, how the hell did he know? He answers my unspoken question.
"You didn't think I wouldn't do a background check on you?"

I just stare at him, my mind and heart blank. I cannot think or conjure up any emotion as my mind tries to erase everything, just as it did years ago. All at once, I want to blame my master, tell him off, attack him for bringing up these awful memories. I never had a recollection of that night until he took me in. I practically forgot my entire childhood until he forced it back into me..

I notice I'm now cradled in his lap, my head against his shoulder. He speaks again. "What exactly happened in that memory of yours?"
I shake my head frantically, and notice the smile tugging at his lips. "You need to tell me, Mina."
"No I don't." I bark, wanting to glare at him yet knowing I'd only cry if I did meet his eyes again. It's all his fault, this man, this monster.. And yet, he's completely innocent, and for once, I feel as if he might even care about me. A single tear streams down my cheek,  yet to cover it up I bury my face into his neck, laying both of my hands against his chest. .He chuckles.

"You're overstepping your boundaries."

I keep my face where it is, and breathe the words into his neck. "You don't like being touched?" I realize how that sounds, and scold myself in my mind. He is obviously amused.

"Not without my consent, no."
"Well then, may I touch you, master?"
He laughs again. "Yes you may."

"Can I kiss you?" I feel both of our surprise as the words escape my mouth before I even think them. He tenses, as do I. and I reluctantly realize what is happening.
"Now why would you want to do that?
Again, my filter doesn't catch the words before they are spoken. "To know that you're not him." My tone is grave, yet honest. He sighs, and chances running his hand down my back.
"I'm not going to ask again. What did he do?"

"I really do not want to get into that right now."
I feel the amusement return to his voice. "What do you want to get into?"
{Your bed.} Entirely grateful that my brain caught the words before my mouth did, I come up with a more reasonable answer. "Anything that doesn't involve my past."
With that he smiles, removes me from him, stands up, and is at the door before I can even process what is happening.
"Well then, I should leave you alone for now. Feel free to use the bed." And before I can even think to reply,

he is gone.