Hurricane

We didn't get married, as you know, the only thing we did was leave. When you were 7 weeks old, Mikey drove us to Canada. It was cold there, and there was a lot of trees. That's because he had done a complete u-turn and we drove western, past Oregon and Washington right into Vancover.

I don't remember how long it had taken us, but by the time we had stopped, I was exhausted. So we're you, you were so fussy and Mikey is the only one who could calm you down. When we stopped by this cabin looking place, he took you out of your car seat and you stopped crying almost immediately.

"I guess I have magic fingers to go with the cock." He smirked at me.

"Pervert." I muttered at him.

"We're gonna meet Ray here. We're gonna be livin' here until we find something better."

It was times like these that I wondered what we were living for. What was the use of running anymore? It was tiring, and I only thought of you. I had thought about giving ourselves up many a time after you were born. I didn't want to betray Mikey...he needed you, and you needed him.


Ray gave us the keys to the cabin, and he also gave us a small bassinet for you.

"Thank you," I told him, "you didn't have to."

"Yeah, I did. Mikey begged me," he chuckled.

"Well, thanks again."

Ray had nodded and Mikey handed you to me; he and Ray went off, outside to talk. I carried you around, looking at our new home. It was a lot quieter, and I simply worried about bears and squirrels now. It's odd how minimal I had thought my problems were...

That night, Mikey had bought some food for us, and milk for you. He always fed you, and cradled you. I think you favored him than me when you were a baby. You were the only good to come of our mess. Mikey had even said so; a lot of times he spoke a loud without thinking.

You were always on his mind.

For the first few nights, you slept in the bed with us; Mikey was worried he'd fall into a deep sleep and wouldn't be able to hear you. He worried more than me. I swear he gave birth to you.

"She has my brother's nose," He had murmured, "it's pointy. What the hell?" He smiled over at me; his glasses had gone, and he returned to contacts.

"It's in the genes." I smiled back at him.

"I don't see you at all, Roo," he stared at you, "Just the hair and the lips...they aren't thin like mine...she smiles like you, too."

In those days, Mikey took care of you, more so than me, but he always told me about everything you did. 


Two entire years past, while we lived in Canada. I worked at a electric company, and Mikey still sold drugs. So far, everything was good, everything was okay.

At home, you were walking and learning to talk. You called me Roo, and said mama a lot. You called Mikey daddy and said love you, he taught you all that. You guys spent a lot of time together. Whenever I would come home, you two would be napping on the couch together.

"Roo, look what I taught Jinx!" Mikey had called after me.

Just for the record, I hated when he called you Jinx, because it sounded like what you call a pet.

"What'd you teach her?" I asked with a raised eyebrow at him.

He took my hand and led me to the living room. You were playing with your dolls; "Jinx, show mommy your zombie!"

You came over with a grin and stuck your arms out, let your wrist hang, made a groaning noise and dragged your foot. I had giggled watching you, "Why'd you teach her that?"

"She wants to be a zombie for Halloween. Right, Jinx?" 

You stopped your movements and smiled, nodding your head happily, "Yep!"

"She'll be the best zombie ever," Mikey had picked you up, "We're going to make you look sick."

"Sick." You repeated after him.


When Halloween approached, you were the sickest looking zombie on the block. We had taken you out in the late afternoon, until 7, when the sun had gone. It was cold, and you were satisfied by seeing the kids and other monsters. You had clung onto Mikey the entire night and had fallen asleep when we got home.

And when we got there, Bob was waiting for us.

"Dude, you made it," Mikey had greeted him, then he turned to me, "take Jinx inside." He told me.

I took you from him, and went inside. You stirred, but hung onto to me as I carried you into your bedroom. I laid you down, and you looked up at me with your smudged zombie make up; "Daddy?"

"He's coming, sweetie, go back to sleep." I took your shoes off, and pulled the blanket over you.

You had shut your eyes, and grabbed a hold of your stuffed teddy bear and fell back asleep.

That was the last memory I had of you before it all went to hell.