"Billie, This Is So Wrong, but I Love You."

I walked into his room and took a shaky breath. Tears appeared in my eyes as I saw his pain. My fault, it was my fault.

"Honey." I whispered. Jakob looked up at me.

"Mommy."

I walked over to my sobbing son. I took him in my arms and pressed him against me, rocking him as he cried into my chest.

"They called me scar face. And plastic boy." He sobbed and sobbed. "They pointed me out in assembly and the older kids drew on my locker."

"Honey, it will be okay. Who cares what they think? They're all losers."

"No, mommy, they're not. They tell the truth."

"Jakob Danger Armstrong." I said, (I had kept Billie's last name because I felt that was the only tie to his father Jake would ever have). "Don't you dare say that. They don't tell the truth. They manipulate and victimise. They are not true people. Once you get older you'll understand that they won't mean a thing to grown ups. They just live to put different people down because they can't stand them."

"Mommy." Jake sobbed.

"Yes, Jakob?"

"I'd rather be one of them than myself. How come I wasn't one of them? Was it something to do with Daddy? Did you do something?"

I was taken aback. I didn't want to lie to Jakob, and I wouldn't as time went on. I'd tell him eventually. When the time was right and he was older. So, for now I told the slight truth.

"It's every bit Daddy's fault."

Jakob stopped crying, his moist eyes filled with longing. Longing to know what his father did. Who his father is. I picked him up and took him into the kitchen. We ate dinner and I gave him a bath.

Whenever I bathed Jake, I always remembered his half brother Joey. How I gave him a bath and cleaned his wounds the night Adie had hit him and blamed it on me. The night Billie kicked me out and Jake was conceived. He'd be almost a teenager by now. I wonder how Justin was going? What about Billie Joe?

I struggled to get Jake's deformed legs and arms into his specially made pajamas. I blinked back tears. I was so self fish for doing this to my son. But, obviously I didn't do it deliberately. I wouldn't have done what I did in my pregnancy if I knew he was developing inside me. It could have been partly Billie's fault, too.

I placed my still crying son into bed and kissed his damp cheeks. This was awful. It couldn't go on, I had to move him from this school. I was practically killing him like this.

"Good night, baby."

"Good night, Mommy."

I walked back out into the kitchen, and flipped on the T.V.

All I remembered was seeing Billie's face... And then I fainted.