"I'm your mother." That had been the first thing she'd said, and you still hadn't gotten over the shock of it. Your mother was dead -- died of cancer when you were a little girl. You'd gone to her funeral, and cried over her grave, wishing in vain she'd come back... just not like this.

"Y-you're dead," was all you could say, which of course, was followed by a loud cackling.
"Yes, well, you made sure of that, didn't you? Sorry to disappoint." Now, you were confused beyond comprehension... How was her "death" your fault? You hadn't wanted her to get sick -- it had torn you apart when she'd died.

"But -- how -- why," you couldn't speak, stumbling over each word, unable to get anything clear out.

"I'll explain, so silence yourself!" She yelled, her crazed voice rising in anger, then falling again as she continued. "It's rude to interrupt." Once you'd forced yourself to stay quiet, your.... mother (You really didn't think you'd be able to call her that, ever) seemed to relax slightly, her posture slumping, her head bobbing on loose shoulders as she paced.

"You have no idea how hard it's been to track you down Missy," she hissed, though her voice was now strangely calm, kind of robotic -- but nothing like the bone-chilling machine of a voice she'd used as a disguise. "You've been a sly one indeed, slinking around with that pathetic boyfriend of yours like nothing in the world could touch you -- all high and mighty." You had to bite your tongue to keep from protesting this ridiculous notion. "It was infuriating.... but now..."

"Now what?" You couldn't stop yourself from blurting. Your captor, still cloaked and faceless, spun on you. Somehow, you felt her penetrating glare, without seeing an inch of her face under her dark hood.

"What did I say about interrupting?"

"S-sorry," you stuttered, straining your shoulder to wipe a few salty tears from your cheeks onto your dirt-stained sweatshirt.

"I know you tried to kill me," her insane chuckling quickly followed the sentence, before trailing off into uneasy silence. You were so stunned, you could hardly speak.

"W-what?" was all you could manage.

"You were glad to be rid of me," -- more cackling -- "You- you got me sick, then went on your marry way with your idiot father to live out the rest of your PATHETIC LIVES!"

Now, there are two kinds of people when it comes to negotiation. Number one: understanding, sane people, who can actually listen and process what you're saying before they come to any kind of conclusions -- and number two: people who are in no position to listen to a word anyone else has to say before they do something. You were definitely dealing with the second one, though, perhaps, a little more extreme, considering she wanted you dead.

"It took me ages to find the right girl," she continued. "If you'd stepped right up from the start, maybe all those girl's lives could have been spared."

You'd gotten one of your wrists loose a while back, and had just let the rope that bound the other fall to the floor. The woman's back was turned to you now, and you quickly got to work on your ankles, finding it was much easier to untie rope with free hands. "Do you want to see what you did to me?" She asked suddenly. In a flurry, you buried your feet in the loose rope, and shoved your hands behind you again.

"Uh..." But before you could answer, she reached up for her hood, grasped it with one, long-nailed hand, and threw it behind her.

Now, in full view, was your mother's blackened, disfigured, hairless face. She had no eyebrows, or eyelashes from what you could tell, and no hair on her head either. Her nose was bent at an unnatural angle, like it'd been broken several times and never quite healed correctly. Burns and cuts smothered her face, so it was almost completely unidentifiable.

"This," she hissed, pointing at herself, "is what you did do me! THIS! It's your fault your father left me behind. He knew! Ohhh, he knew about it, he just didn't want me anymore! He was selfish and only cared about himself! You shouldn't want to be like him. You should be happy he's dead -- I did you a favor!"

"What?" You whispered, letting your shoulders slip down a bit, though it wasn't noticeable. "You're saying... he knew you weren't dead?"