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“Oh, it’s fine. It is Visiting Week, after all.” Mom smiles, but she squeezes your hand in an expression of controlled anger you’d come to recognize. The clerk laughs awkwardly, and quickly rings you up (with a 5% discount, you noticed), and Mom calls out to Vanessa, who was sitting on her suitcase, bored and on her phone, texting her new friend Brittany, no doubt.The three of you walk down the hotel hall, opening the door into a non-descript room with two queen beds and a simple bathroom. Mom sniffs at it, but she puts on a smile and tries to interact with Vanessa, who was bored out of her mind. You help your disappointed mother with the suitcases, and she smiles at you again, that smile that makes all of your extra work worth it. You pull her into a warm hug, and she hums and melts into it, and you can’t help but feel her tits against your chest, as you hug her fondly.After a while, Mom’s phone buzzes, and she gets it eagerly.“Ooh! It’s Brooke. She, Gemma, and Mark are meeting us at. . *I stop befor finishing my sentance. Um ar you hurt? * Iask quickly trying t change the subject befor you can ask what I was going to say* Shade Renamon December 19 at 2:44pm Report*looks at you funny* me hurt why would you be thinking.....oh you mean the blood that's not mine it's someone elses *I take a few steps closer to you* Sent via Facebook Mobile Alex Davis December 19 at 2:46pm Oh. * say not moving I'm eather to scared or to inchanted by your looks to think about moving.* Where do yyou come from* I ask as my knees start to shake* Shade Renamon December 19 at 2:48pm Reportoh me well I'm from a whole other world *I continue to take steps towards you injoy the look of fear on your face and hoping you wouldn't run like the last guy for I would kill like I did him but I'm not going to let you know that* but I'm sure you could of guessed that Sent via Facebook Mobile Alex Davis December 19 at 2:50pm Um yea. * I say as my hand twiches. I'm barely resisting the erge to touch.
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"This face. this stupid, ugly ..." He ran off, went into the bathroomand slammed the door behind him.I looked at the pictures and became even more confused.All the pictures were of him.I was still considering this, when I heard shouting coming from thebathroom.I got up, and made my way to the door, trying to hear what he wassaying."I hate you! I hate you! You... You.... BOY!" He said the last word like it was the worst curse he could bestow.I heard pounding and rushed into the bathroom, to find him hitting themirror with every bit of force he had cracking it. Then, like a puppetwhose strings had been cut, he collapsed to the floor and wept.I gathered him into my arms and held him tight."Please. Tell me what's wrong," I said."Daddy..." he said with a sob. "Make him go away. He's ... wrong."He was pointing at his own reflection in the cracked mirror.I had no idea what to say to that, so I just held him, rocking him, andstroking his hair, like I had when he was a baby.He quieted, and I.

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