summer kohen / d9 / fin

I don't think I was meant to be a mom. There are some women in the world who just shouldn't have children, and I'm one of them. My own momma was one of those women too. She got herself pregnant anyway, popping out six babies before going insane and landing herself in a mental institution. I was smack in the middle of those babies— too young to go fetch her pills for her, old enough to remember when the Peacekeepers hauled her away.

My momma fucked us all up. My two older brothers sell drugs and my oldest sister won't talk to any of us. Last I heard, she was engaged to some wannabe politician. I think she stopped talking to us cause our youngest brother died. He got involved with some bad shit as he got older, and none of us could stop it. I don't know why she thinks any of that is our fault. She could have been there for him, too.

I think the only one of us that turned out alright is our youngest sister. See, when they took Momma away, they stuck her in a foster home with some nice rich family, since none of us could take care of a baby. She got married right out of high school, had a couple kids. She still has me over for tea every weekend. Sometimes it seems like she's the only member of our family who can still stand me.

Now, just because I don't think I should be a mother doesn't mean I don't got kids. Have you ever walked around the streets here? They're crawling with kids who are getting mixed up in bad things without anyone to take care of them. I can't stop them from making that decision— I couldn't even stop my own brother— but I can keep them fed and give them a place to sleep so they don't starve to death in the gutter.

It started a couple years ago. I was trying to get home after working a double when these kids tried to rob me. I mean, they couldn't have been older than fourteen. You think I'm gonna take that seriously? I could tell how desperate they were, though. Lord knows I felt that way so many times as a kid.

Instead of offering up my purse— which, let's be honest, probably had way less money than they desired— I told them they could come back with me and I'd fix 'em up some dinner. Despite my rusty persuasion skills, it seemed they were too hungry to pass up my offer. I made them some stew and told them to stop trying to rob people. I know, I know. Easier said than done.

Guess word travels quick, cause soon I had a ton of kids showing up at my doorstep. I never turned any of them away. I'd have to be heartless to do that. They were never asking for much, just food or bandages, so I'd buy 'em snacks or patch up their scrapes. Gave a kid stitches once, cause she was too scared to tell the hospital her boyfriend whacked her.

I'm not saying I went and scared the shit out of that bastard after, but hey, you assume the risk when you mess with my fuckin' kids.

So yeah, I'm not a mom, but I take care of these kids like they're my own. I probably visit my own Momma once a year. I don't have to, but I'd feel bad if I didn't. After everything that happened, she still gave birth to me, and I gotta show her some gratitude for that. She doesn't remember me much, which I think is better for both of us. I was through waiting for any sort of apology a long time ago. I got my own life to focus on now.