His Baby {completed}

Chapter 19

^^Emma^^

***Alex POV***

I blink several times before a harsh chuckle leaves my lips. "You are the farthest thing from a mother to me Emma. Yes, you are the woman who has birthed me but you most certainly were never a mother to me. Lets not get that confused." I reply dryly already finding myself already bored with the conversation and ready for her dusty ass to get the fuck up out of my face.

Emma just smiled with eyes sparkling like daggers. "Son you can call it whatever you want. You can hate me for however long you want. But you were birthed from my loins and no one can deny that. I don't care if you_"

I cut her off with a quick wave of my hand. "Save it. I don't give a flying fuck about any 'family' speech you have stowed away up in that ass of yours. What do you want? Huh? I know you came for something. You always show up when you need something. You fucking can't just swing by and see how a bitch is doing but you sure know how to crawl your trifling ass up here when you need something!" I hated the fact that even after all these years, I still find myself bitter and hurt over the actions of this woman, who was supposed to be a mother to me.

She sniffed and threw her hair over her shoulders and sat down stiffly in the chair across from me. "I did come by to see how you were doing_"

My bitter shout of laughter cut off her words yet again. Who the fuck is she trying to fool? "You are so full of shit Emma. Come now. Spit the shit out so I can get on with my day."

"Lex I will not stand for your sharp mouth any longer! You need to respect me. I am your mother, not some two bit whore on the street asking for a dollar!" Her shrill voice screamed out. I snorted and raised an eyebrow.  Not a fucking two bit whore huh?...she could have sure as hell fooled me.

"I am a changed person. I have been in therapy and rehab for the past two years. I have been clean and off the streets ever since. I have found the good lord again. Today I wanted to come and speak with you to try and right all of my wrongs. I am ready to be a consistent person in your life now. Before I wasn't but now is different." She continues. I frown and roll my eyes. Here we fucking go. She has found "God" yet again...I wonder how long God will keep her attention this time before she realizes that she likes shooting up crack more than going to bible study?

"I have been away out of the state getting well and you haven't even cared enough to check up on me. I could have been dead somewhere! And I come back to the city just recently only to hear that you have been telling everybody that I am dead. What kind of Shit is that?" She shouts and then pouts in her chair.

My eyelids jump uncontrollably as I fight the urge to kick her dumbass out of my office's window. I take a deep controlled breath and stare back at her blankly. Drugs, alcohol, and the fast life she lived on the streets over the past years has stolen her natural beauty a long time ago. Now she sits in front of me with a face riddled with lines and harsh skin from the hard life she has chosen to bestow on her once beautiful body.  She never wanted children; I guess that should have never came to a surprise for me as a little kid by the way she handled me. Emma was a beauty queen and model on the brink of discovery before the charms of my father gotten the best of her. She didn't let a day go by when I was a little boy without whining about how I ruined her image and dreams. That it was my father's and my fault that she was an drug addict forced to sell her body for the next fix and rent money.

I remember my seven-year-old self feeling so guilty about my mom. I actually had begun to hate my drunken father and myself for what we have done to her. I somehow convinced myself that if it weren't for me that the whoring bitch wouldn't be so sick. I believed that I deserved the abuse I was getting from my father just because of what I forced my mother to do everyday. It wasn't until my Uncle Hurst pulled me up out of the bullshit of a life that I had, that I realized that my parents' problems were their own. Problems that they have created on themselves.