s*t*a*r*s 8 - pt 133

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 Janet Marie

 I’m sick of the fall

 I’ve made up my mind

 I’m going to finish this tonight

 I want to take flight

 Away from my painful plight

 I want to see the light

 That ebbs from you

 I want to break free

 From the bonds you forced onto me

 Shatter them

 Bend them

 Leave from this place

 I’ve only seen

 From the inside out

 The silence is killing me

 You speak without words

 I will be free

 Of the cage built for me

            They finally arrive at the beach house.  The drive had been silent, but not uncomfortable, and Amy unloads the car.  “Second and third floor are a total mess, but Jo’s gotten the 1st floor finished off.  Two bedrooms, so neither of us has to sleep on a couch.  I’m pretty sure I saw beds in there.  If not, we can wing it for today and get some bought tomorrow.”

            Spencer doesn’t say anything.  She gets her things from the back of the car.  She and Amy silently go about getting their rooms ready.  The rooms are furnished with a simple bed and dresser, and a large overstuffed chair in the corner of Spencer’s room. Amy comes in as Spencer is hanging her clothes in the closet and drops an iPad on the bed.  “You can have that; I have my cell in the other room working as a hub so you can get on the internet.”

            “Jo says…”

            “Fuck what Jo says,” snaps Amy.  “You should have hit her harder.”

            “Hit – her…what?”  Spencer’s brow knits, wondering what Amy is talking about.

            “You should have put her through the wall, landed her in the bay, and Jayden along with her.  Don’t ever let anyone hide anything from you, Spence.  Your mom, with reason, hid you from me.  I lost years with you.  Never let a soul hide a thing from you,” says Amy with venom in her tone.

            Spencer nods.  She swallows hard.  “Okay.”

            “You do the homework that Nat sends you but you are free to do what you want.  Harley wants you to record fifty songs a day, you do it.  I’m not going to punish you for doing just what I’d have done.”

            Spencer chuckles, pushing her hair from her eyes; she shakes her head and can’t get past the fact that she is a lot like Amy.

            “I really am your kid, huh?”

            Amy smirks.  “For better or for worse, yes, you’re my kid too.  I’ll get you a cell phone in the morning and some WiFi installed.  TV?  And we need groceries, but I have to admit, I’m not much on cooking.”

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