#SOTUS Continued: Book Two A BoysLove Tale

Color

Wad's POV

"Mom," I call, walking into the kitchen.

"Son," My mom snarks back, "Now that we know who we are, what do you need?"

"Funny," I chuckle, taking a seat at the table, "I have something I want to ask you." My mom turns from the sink drying her hands on her apron.

"Should I sit down?" She questions leerily, and I shrug. I wait for her to take a seat. "OK, I am sitting down."

"It is nothing bad, Mom," I reach over and pat her hand, "It is something I want to do, and I wanted to make sure you are OK with it."

"Oh," She says, placing her hand on mine. "I doubt there is anything you would do that I wouldn't be fine with, but what is it, Wad?"

When I was kidnapped by P'Dean and brought back to that house, I felt like the me I had been wearing around since I was first raped was burned away. I am the same. My scars remind me of that every day. Unlike the past me, I see them not as a symbol of shame but as a badge of my survival.

"Remember when P'Dean kidnapped me?" I ask, and I see her face darken.

"What about it?" Mom questions hesitantly.

"Remember what I asked I could get once I was home?" I prod hoping she will remember.

"No, Wad," Mom answers, "I don't. What did you ask for?" Hmmm. Is she faking? I admit a lot was going on, and I just mentioned it that one time.

"A tattoo," I say, looking at my hands, "I want to get a tattoo."

"Oh," Mom puffs out, and I look over at her, "I was kind of hoping you had forgotten that idea."

"Why?" I demand. Does she think I am too young? What?

"I don't want you to..." Mom trails off as the timer goes off. I watch as she goes over and takes something from the oven.

"You don't want me to what, Mom?" I ask. Mom turns and leans against the counter.

"Wad," She says, crossing her arms, "What mother would want their son to scar themselves permanently?"

"Mom, I have scars," I sigh. This is not how I wanted this conversation to go. I walk over to stand in front of her.

"I know that," Mom tells me, and I hear her voice waver. "Do you think I have forgotten them? Do you think I don't know every one you have?" She reaches up and taps my head, "Even the ones I can't see?"

I reach over and wipe a tear from her cheek. I think my mom has as many scars as I do. Only they are not the kind that you can trace with a finger.

"Why do you want a tattoo, Wad?" Mom asks.

"I want something to show I am new," I explain.

"And you need a tattoo to do that?" Mom counters, "I can tell you are new. I and anyone who knew you before this year can tell this without a tattoo."

"Mom," I sigh. I didn't know she would be this upset about the idea.

"What is it?" Mom asks so quietly I almost think I misheard.

"Huh? What is what?" I repeat the question back at her.

"What do you want to get so bad?" Mom looks over at me.

"A phoenix," I tell her, "Since they are born again." I hold my breath as I let what I just told her sink in. I join her back at the table when she sits down.

"Where?" She continues.

"On my back," I begin to explain while I pick at my nails, "I don't know if..."