Today is the first time I’ve left my room for more than five minutes in days. Yesterday, Kayne finally came home. He went out on a job three days ago and was supposed to be home the next morning. We’ve all been terrified!

When I saw him standing there, fit as a fiddle, I couldn’t help it – I started crying. I was so scared that he was gone forever. We might not always get along that well, but I love him – he’s my brother.

Downstairs, I can hear Mom tearing into him again. She lost it yesterday. For just a MOMENT I saw the joy and relief the rest of us were all feeling, but then she got pissed and tore my brother a new butthole. Typical of her, really. I don’t know why I thought she might, I don’t know, hug him or something.

Still, it’s obvious how much she loves him. Everyone knows he’s her favorite; he’s the only person in the house, aside, maybe, from Baz, who can honestly say he knows that Mom loves him. Me? I’m not even sure most of the time if she likes me. I’ve got to wonder if she’d even care if I disappeared.

She’s always on me about training and getting in shape, and Dad says it’s because she cares, and she’s worried about me. But, come on, why can’t she just say that? Would it kill her to show her own daughter that she cares?

I kind of think she used up all the love she had on Kayne and his father. I’ve seen her making moony-eyes at that old picture when she thinks no one is looking – he’s dead, Mom! Move on already! Why can’t she love me and Dad and Quinn and Baz instead of some dead guy?!

I need to change the subject. This was supposed to be all happy and relieved because my brother isn’t coyote chow.

I’m going to be nineteen in four months. Dad told me about how people used to really get excited for birthdays, and, in books I’ve read, people threw parties to celebrate them. But I guess that isn’t a thing anymore. All turning nineteen means to me is going out and getting a job.

I have no idea what I’m going to do. The only thing I want to do is write – I would love to hold a published copy of a book I wrote in my hands! – but there aren’t any publishers in town. Dad checked. I wish the rest of the world hadn’t closed communication with us; they surely have publishers out there. They’ve surely got a lot of things out there. I guess I’ll just go work at the paper with Dad. That’s something, right?

I guess I can take my time to figure things out if I want to. Ever since Mom became the mob boss, we haven’t had to pay the protection money. I asked her to put a stop to it completely, but she just looked at me like I was crazy and told me that there were important people relying on a cut of that money. Either she means herself (probably) or some people who would try to kill her if she stopped the cash. Both, possibly. Shannyn Storme, after all, is out for herself above all things.

Ugh. I’m getting bitter. I guess this is where I need to stop.

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