"Mom!"

There was a time, which she could vaguely recall, when her child wouldn't yell her name from any part of the house, but would come close by and whisper and giggle into her ear whatever he wished to say. And he would cling onto her leg - always the right one - whenever she was in sight, and she'd take him around the entire house not caring if he got his clothes dirty because she was going to wash the laundry anyway. There was one time where he even kissed her while she was wearing a new outfit, leaving an outline of his lips on the skirt.

She never even washed it off.

"MOM!"

At this point he was nearly screaming, and she could assure herself he was getting worked up about nothing. She wearily turned around from the counter, her tired eyes taking in the appearance of her eldest son. His face masked itself in an angry expression, his cheeks colored a light shade of red as though he had been running around the block at least ten times and had just started to cool off. His hair was longer than she had remembered it being - when was the last time she had looked at him for more than two seconds before he ran upstairs? - and she doubted he had even bothered to run a comb through it. On top of that, his entire body seemed to be glazed in a thin layer of sweat, and without thinking she took a step forward.

When he was younger, she would have reached out to touch his forehead, to feel if it was burning, and she would have marched him upstairs and tucked him in, telling him he'd have to just miss his outings with his friends to get better. And he'd moan and complain but once she'd turn on the TV, bring him ice cream, and fluff up his pillows on demand, he'd enjoy it so much he'd ask her if he could be sick tomorrow, too.

But now he scared her. His eyes were full of hatred and seemed to know how he intimidated her, like they were contemplating whether or not to use her fear to an advantage. Then, as if he were a cornered animal, Ryan took a step back once his mother moved towards him. As this was being done something could be heard from the deep within an area of his throat. It was like a low rumble, consistent in tone but cut itself short...it was like a growl.

"Yes, -" She stopped herself quickly, realizing just in time she was about to use one of her pet names for him; pet names he had told her he had long outgrown. From now on he only wanted to be called by his birth given name. "There will be no more 'Honey' or 'Sweetie' or any of that, and don't kiss me in public." Those were his exact words which rang through her mind like a clock bell every hour when she was alone; when the baby was sleeping and her husband was working and she had nothing to keep her occupied. "-Ryan?"

Turning around and violently opening the cabinet, he spoke as he noisily looked through the cereal and oatmeal boxes, shaking them and throwing them on the floor whenever they sounded too empty. "I'm hungry!" Use your inside voice, Sweetie. This isn't a park. That's what she would say; that's what she wanted to say, if only her voice wouldn’t break every time she tried to talk to him

Once her son came to the newly opened box of Special-K, he whipped his body around to glare at her as though she had commited a sin punishable only by death. She watched as he craned his neck to the side, looking down to read the back of the box and mumbling to himself the words as his eyes looked over them. This lasted not even a few seconds when he threw it down on the floor with the other cereal boxes that had been tossed aside. "You're fat, and eating more won't help." Ryan hissed, turning his devilish gaze to the baby sitting in the high chair. "It's because you had that thing." In response, his younger brother giggled innocently in his place, clapping his hands as drool seeped out from the corner of his mouth.

"...oh." She murmured this to herself, walking towards her other son - Jace - and wiping off the spit on his chin, all the while trying not to see what Ryan was doing. Even so, he made his feelings about how his younger sibling was being treated known. "Just leave him alone; you can't wipe his ass forever."

"Don't use that sort of language in this house, Ryan!" she exclaimed, causing the baby to jump, apparently startled, in his chair. And she nearly did the same, but instead it felt like a hot bullet shot through her body, spreading the anxiety and making her so nervous her legs began to shiver. Seeing that Ryan was already shaking with his quickly-rising temper, she quickly scooped up Jace and cradled him in her arms, watching the other carefully. She planned for him to lash out at her and the baby, but to her utter surprise he simply flipped her off, and this action was accompanied by the following words. "I'll say whatever the fuck I want."

Ryan walked through the mess he had made in the kitchen, deliberatly stepping on cereal boxes with his foot. She could hear the flakes crunching in the Special K box when he dug his foot deeper into the cardboard before he stomped away. Now at the door leading to the front porch, he grabbed the handle, turned it, and slammed it open, causing Jace to start off his crying with a scream.

It was just another regular morning.

And what she hated the most was that she would have been worried if things had turned out any other way.

A/N; I put on this story editing only one word. I know if I reread it even once I'd find a whole bunch of stuff wrong with it. It seems I'm rarely ever satisfied permanetly with my stories.

Read&Review please.

ily all bai

- Forwards, Bandit