"Come, Sang. It is time to prepare," Father announces with a harsh and heartless smile.

My time here has hardened me.

My heart no longer leaps with hope when Father smiles.

It has now been a week since I killed Greg.

This week, my nightmares have grown worse and worse. It is a good thing that I am the only one that sleeps here at night. They have guards and cameras, but no one sleeps here so no one has to see my nightmares.

It has now been nearly six months since I got rescued from a life with gaps in my memories.

I try and I try, but I cannot seem to remember certain things. I feel strongly that there is something that I am missing. Something that I am not seeing. A connection, perhaps, that I have yet to make.

It has now been a lifetime of hurt and insanity.

My insanity is to be warranted, though.

"Insanity - a perfectly rational adjustment to an insane world."

Could my life truly be described as insane?

Am I just being dramatic?

I'm sure everyone feels like their life is torture.

What makes mine so special?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

This is my life, I just need to be strong enough to deal with it.

Killing Greg snapped something inside of me. It caused me to question things.

Of course I love Father, but why do I love him?

Of course he rescued me, but why did he need to it Mother and Marie were already dead?

If course he loves me, but why does he never show it? Or is it just tough love?

I pull my metal ball behind me and follow Father to where a girl is standing with brushes and a rack of clothes.

"Dress her so she can scare and intimidate," Father orders her.

The girl is a bit taller than I am, so still short, with brown hair that is a mass of curls and frizz down her back. She has grey-green eyes and a splash of freckles covering her nose and cheeks that are dark enough to show through her makeup. She is wearing a lot of makeup, but it is artfully and carefully put on and only enhances her natural beauty. She looks to be fourteen or fifteen years old and a quiet person.

"Hi," She whispers shyly. "My name is Evangelina, but you can call me Lina."

I grin at her, "My name is Sang. I'm glad to see that someone here is a butt."

Evangelina startles, looking taken aback.

I wink at her and she blinks her eyes as if not believing them.

She turns and pulls out a brush and some powder and immediately gets started on her work.

We talk and have a bit of fun, but something feels off. Kinda like she isn't the right person for the job, but I can't see why.

In fact, she is the only person to be this nice my whole time here.

Once she is finished with my makeup, she does my hair putting it in multiple braids. Then she dresses me before allowing me to see what I look like.

In my reflection, I see a fierce, confident, and crazy woman. One with glowing green eyes that promise nothing, twisting braids that reflect my twisting personality, and black that represents where I came from. No longer is the playful, innocent, and crazy girl there. I have grown. I have killed. I have been nearly killed. I have been through hell and came out stronger and crazier.

I am not broken or weighed down the my past and the world.

I am strong.

I am a warrior.

I am mad.

I am insane.

And I am ready to obey my father.

***

Corey's POV

How is it that I am the strong one right now?

I couldn't figure it out.

I was always the one who cried first.

I was always the gentle one.

I guess I just value life more than most people.

I cleared my throat and announced, "We need to prepare. Gabriel, help everyone gear up so we can leave as soon as possible to retrieve Sang."

Mr.B shot me a look with his eyes that said, Thank you.

I merely nodded in response.

There was no need for him to thank me. He would've done the same thing for me. We, as brothers, will always help each other all out. Right now, somehow, I am the stronger one. It is my responsibility to make sure everything is being held together, even if it is just by a thread.

I expected Gabriel to complain at least a little about having to take orders from me, but he just nodded and headed to the gear room.

I felt a pain in my chest at that.

Sang being gone was awful.

It took a terrible toll on us, but, thankfully, their rage was mostly over.

There were times when North would just start attacking items at random. He'd throw the lamp against the furniture, punch a hole in the wall, trash his room, and more.

Now, while there is less cleanup, their numbness is almost worse.

Brandon especially had grown numb and accepting. He was sure that Sang was dead and was unfeeling and half the time was unresponsive as well.

Hopefully, this effort to get Sang would succeed. If it doesn't, I hoped that we would at least heal a little knowing that we did everything we could.

Because, really, the only way we were going to stop is if we are dead or Sang is dead.

***

Sang's POV

I stop my black motorcycle at the location.

In front of me is an extravagant mansion. The amount of money wasted on the building has me already disliking the owners, but something about the beautiful and sprawling garden calls to me. It tugs at my mind to remember some unknown detail or fact but I just can't figure out what I am supposed to remember.

Dismissing my thoughts as irrelevant to the job, I swing my leg over the motorcycle and take my helmet off.

I silently stride up to the mansion.

Normally, I would try to take a more covert method of approaching, but there is a hustle and ruckus sounding from inside, like they are all busy and preoccupied.

I just hope they are all there.

I wouldn't want to chase them all down.

The sooner I get done, the sooner Father can return my love.

I just wish he would freely love me. I am, after all, his only remaining daughter and family member.

Slipping inside, I quietly approach the talk man alone in the kitchen.

With his back turned to me, I press my sword to the side of his neck.

"Turn," We command.

We want to look our prey in they eye when we kill them.

We are not a coward and we are strong enough to take anyone.

We have no fear of losing the advantage of surprise.

He stiffens up instantly, but something tells us it isn't because of the blade.

As he turns he looks us up and down, tears fill his eyes, and he wraps his arms around us trying to squeeze us lifting us up.

Huh.

Squeezing us to death.

He really is a bad fighter.

We knee him in the gut and slam our head into his overly familiar nose.

He stumbles back and stutters, "Sa-Sang?"

Our eyes narrow.

"How do you know her name?!" We yell viciously.

We are so thrown off by him saying our name that we forget that we are supposed to be quiet.

We kick the dark man in the stomach and wrap an arm around his neck, effectively putting him in a chokehold and cutting his air supply off.

We regret our mistake of yelling, though, when footsteps come running into the kitchen from all directions until thirteen pairs of eyes are staring at us.

Staring at me with shock, surprise, awe, hope, fear, disbelief, and love.

It is startling and confusing.

Is this how most people treat their soon to be killer?

We use our free hand to point the sword at his stomach.

We are about to plunge it in and kill him when they are snapped out of their stupor and begin shouting.

"Sang, what are you doing?!"

"Is it really you?"

"Unhand North!"

"Is that a sword?!"

"Who the **** dressed you?!"

"Stop!"

"Sang?!"

"What is going on, Sang?!"

"Where have you been?!"

"Where did you get that?!"

Their shouting and questioning continues and only grows louder as they tell over each other.

Normally, we would have just ignored them and killed them all while they were yelling, but we are disoriented.

What is going on?

Why can't we focus?

Why do we recognize them?

We know their appearances.

We know their voices.

We even know their smells!

Why are they so familiar?!

What is going on here?!

Did Father know I would recognize them?!

Is this a trap?!

"Sang! Snap out of it!" Sarah snaps forcefully. "We need to figure this out not panic! Maybe they have a clue as to what happened during our memory gaps."

I nod stiffly and Star grumbles, "I voted that we just kill them all and have a bit of fun. But noooo. No one listens to me!"

I ignore her sulking and yell, "Who are you and how do you know me?!"

They all stared at me in a stupor again.

Is this a habit of theirs?

We growl viciously—it's almost a roar, really—at them make them all jump a little.

Seeing their fear and confusion, a sick and sadistic pleasure fills us and paints a smile on our face.

"Sang, you don't remember us?" The happy twin asks, devestated.

We roll our eyes.

"Of course we do. This is our idea of fun. Pretending to know nothing," We retort heavily sarcastic before turning serious. "Answer or die."

We drive the sword into North Star's gut a little more.

North Star?

How do I know that name?

I let out a strangled shout of frustration.

Do you know what it is like?!

To question your own brain?!

To not be sure of anything?!

To be the only one without the answers?!

"Darling," The oddly stuffy one says slowly. "Calm down. We rescued you from your mother and sister in September. You stayed here at this very house with us. You joined our mafia. You told us about Sarah and Star."

Darling?

What am I to these people?

Wait.

I told them about Star and Sarah?

Father rescued me, not them!

Right?

What is real?

Who do I believe?

"You called me Always, short for Always Hungry. I called you Cupcake. We are sugary delights together. We pranked the boys. I made the slushy that you tried to marry," The elvish looking boy with short blond locks blurts suddenly.

What.

On.

Earth.

"I called you Arrow. You called me Bow. I walked with you in the garden just about every night just to talk to you," The Native American man with inky black hair informs me slowly.

"You were convinced my name is Paprika and have me the nickname Honey. I called you Peanut. You showed me how to improve my fighting, something that was incredible," The muscular man with a shock of soft red hair states.

I stare at him.

I'm pretty sure he is confused.

"Are you sure your name isn't Paprika?" I insist, highly skeptical.

The redhead groans and the others laugh, but it seems kinda stuff and forced.

"You called me Big Bear and I call you my Kitten. You showed me how to improve my aim and completely destroyed my room in a prank while I was sleeping in it. You are my fruitcup, a sign that we are engaged," The tattooed man with brown hair tells me earnestly in Russian.

"I'm engaged?" I repeat confused.

I can't believe I would forget such a thing!

He must be in terrible pain.

His own fiance doesn't recognize him.

I can't believe how bad my memory loss is affecting others.

The dark man in my clutch bursts out, "Engaged?! Crow?! What is she talking about?!"

The others look like they are feeling the same way.

I can't see why, though.

Do they not approve of our relationship?

The smug Russian—Big Bear? Crow?—replies in a heavily accented, rumbling voice, "She eated fruitcup, she accept my proposal."

"That's not how that ****ing works!" The boy in all pink and black with the brown and blond hair yells.

"What he is said! Except nicer!" Always Hungry exclaims.

Somehow, saying these incredibly strange names feels oddly natural.

"Wait," I order. "Am I engaged or not?"

Their shouts of no drown out the Russian's affirmative answer.

"Oh, so I'm not in a relationship?"

By now, I have completely let go of the dark man and my sword is loosely gripped in my hand.

I feel safe with these guys.

Safer than I ever did with my father.

The lack of chains probably helps.

"Well, we never spoke of it, but we love you," The green eyed nerd states bluntly.

They look at him stunned and happy.

"You said something without numbers!" The fire eyed boy shouts happily and hugs him.

"Wait. You all love me?" I question timidly and shocked, but the looks in their eyes tell me it is the truth.

Instead of joy, I feel shame and anger.

How could I?!

How could I forget them?!

How could I string them all along allowing all of them to fall in love?!

Suddenly I am jarred out of my thoughts by the stuffy one.

"Sang Sorenson, we all love you. You have done nothing wrong. We know you don't love us back yet, but we can wait our whole lives for you," He says seriously.

All I can see is him.

His silver grey eyes.

His perfection.

His short brown hair.

And, somehow, the warm smile on his face causes me to remember.

"Ow-Owen?" I stutter with tears welling up in my eyes.

My sword clatters to the ground, completely forgotten.

His silver eyes shine with joy and love and hope.

I look at all of them excitedly remembering everything.

My boys.

All of them are here.

All of them claiming to love me.

I clap my hand over my mouth, but I can't keep my sob contained as the years spill over and drip down my face.

Immediately, they rush to comfort me, but I turn to North Star.

"North Star, I'm so sorry!" I cry. "I didn't know it was you! Father told me to kill you all and you were the closest and easiest target!"

North Star hugs me and it feels so familiar and so right.

"Sang Baby, it's okay. But how did you forget us? What made you obey your Father?"

I furrow my brow and think, but it is Sarah who answers, "Sang, Star, and I did not remember any of you. Please forgive us as we were brainwashed by a new drug, the JH-14. Dr.Volto and Father gave us an injection of it every week."

They all are stunned and seem to be processing this.

I don't blame them.

It is a lot to take in. Plus, Sarah and Star have never directly spoken to any of them before.

"I—" I start to say, but I am cut off by crashing.

The door and windows are broken simultaneously and people come pouring in, armed to the teeth.

Father is there too.

"I knew sending you would be a mistake," He snarls. "You are a *****, just like your real mother."

What?

"That's right," Father continues cruelly, seeing my confusion. "Mara Sorenson isn't your biological mother. Your mother is a dead ****."

I feel like someone literally just yanked the world out from under my feet.

She isn't my mother?

While I am distracted by my thoughts, they strike.

Before I can do anything, fighting breaks out.

I scoop up the sword and swing it at Father who is about to shoot Meanie who is wrestling the gun out of someone else's hands.

Father turns to me with rage and surprise and terror in his eyes.

"What?" I laugh drily and without humor. "You thought I couldn't fight the drug? You thought you could control me?! You will never control me!"

I lean in and whisper, "I am stronger than you."

"Get her!" Robert Sorenson—not Father, never again—screeches, stumbling backward. "All of you! Kill her!"

Like the obedient dogs they are, they all leave the boys and rush me.

The boys fight to get to me.

The three of us fight hard.

We kill many of them.

But we are too late.

Robert, white faced and trembling, is holding the gun in his hands.

The boys kill the others as I shoot Robert.

They rush to me with fear in their eyes.

But they are too late.

We are already dying.

Pug immediately begins to try and stop the blood.

But he is too late.

I remove his hands from my stomach.

"Stop," I whisper to his tear stained face. "It's too late and you know it."

They begin to break down, but I stop them.

I must tell them what I tried to earlier.

I must tell them, even if it is my last act on Earth.

"I love you all," I choke out. " I always have. "

And then darkness is all I know.