Her – me – you know – Angel's father (sperm donor is more like it) showed up the next afternoon pretending to care, full of 'I'm so sorry' and 'You'll be fine.'"Everything I've ever known was taken from me, and in its place is that huge mansion and crazy people who think I'm this way because of losing my mother."The reality was sinking in. Angela really was like me.I interrupted her momentarily to interject some truth into her rant. "Angela, you realize that their reaction is the only thing that keeps you safe from being locked up as a mental case or taken away by the military and used as a lab rat, right? Let them think you're quiet and just a little odd. As long as they have a good explanation that suits them, they'll not think about you in any other way, which means you're safe."She went on as if she hadn't heard. "I knew you the minute you stepped out of the car. You aren't Noah are you? You're stuck in Noah's body and trying to figure out how to survive minute by minute. I know. What time is it?" It's 8:30. I came home to change but I gotta get back to the office. Are you okay? I'll stay if there's something wrong."Rubbing my eyes I said, "No, nothing's wrong. Do what you have to do."I trailed Ron upstairs but took a detour to Mike's room. Peeking in, I saw the messed up bed and his clothes on the floor where he left them. Then my eyes opened wide. I ran into the room and grabbed my robe, throwing it under Mike's bed. And then it hit me -- my son hadn't come home. Sulking, I went to my bedroom and plopped onto the bed, physically tired and emotionally drained. I watched in silence as my husband put on a fresh set of clothes, feeling a pang when he tossed his day-old white shirt onto the leather chair.Leaning over me, Ron gave me a soft kiss on the lips. I almost pulled back knowing those same lips had been wrapped around our son's cock which spurted sperm into my mouth. The guilt was overbearing. Ron then left.Turning onto my side, I bent my legs and then.
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