My mom. The strongest woman I knew.
She still is the strongest woman I know.
I might be pretending to be Erika Armstrong, but I’m actually Erika Slade.
I’m the daughter of Brandon Slade.
Daughter of Kimberly Slade.
I ran away from my old life because I hate my father.
Because he’s not just the guy who donated sperm so I could be born.
He’s the worst man imaginable.
I’m the daughter of a killer.
Brandon is dead to me.
But he still breathes.
And my mom? Who I love more than life itself?
She is actually dead.
Even if she’s still alive inside me at the very least.
For the first time since my father killed my mom, I can’t hold back the tears, and they stream down my face.
It’s such a stupid thing, to want to protect my bike from the Mutineers, but I couldn’t protect her. This is all I have left of her. Nothing will happen to my bike.
And nothing will happen to me that I can’t handle.
Fuck pain. Fuck all of them.
I’ll figure out my life. Get my head on straight. Shoulders back. Proper posture. All that shit.
I’ll survive.
I’ll come out on top.
I’ll make my mom proud of me.