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face. “That’s for taking my stuff without asking.” No need to yell, her hand spoke volumes.
    “Yes, Mother. It won’t happen again.” Michael lowered his gaze. His face stung a little, but he didn’t let the fact that he’d felt anything show. He breathed in deeply and swallowed. She wasn’t done.   
    “You make me sick. It’s your fault your father left.” He watched her face now, could see the near frenzied anger dancing in her eyes. The silvered light from outside made them flicker. “If you’d never been born, if that stupid ali —” She stopped, frightened and looked around the kitchen. After a moment, she continued, “Frank and I would still be together. You ruined everything.”
    He closed his eyes and forced his heart to slow down. Do not feel. Don’t let her get to you. It didn’t help. Rage tore through him. He hated everyone. His dad, the guys on the football team, and girls. Cheverly. His mother. He pounded a fist on the counter, allowing the fury to build.
    “Mother.” The word came out more anguished than angry. He opened his eyes in time to see the wrath on his mother’s face ease. She caused him pain to lessen her own. He knew it, accepted it, and allowed it. But, he’d only suffer so much.
    Maliciously, he went on, “It’s your fault I’m alive. Remember that!” Her hand came up to hit him again. He smacked it away. “Enough!” He may’ve allowed her emotional abuse and permitted her to slap him around some, because he felt sorry for her, but he wasn’t taking any more. Not today.
    “Don’t talk that way to me. I’m still your mother,” Catherine yelled, pounding her cigarette on the edge of a quartz ashtray. 
    Michael glared, but didn’t say a word, stifling the rest of the words he wanted to spew her direction. There wasn’t any point and he knew it, so he held his tongue.
    “Fine!” She picked up the glass of wine she’d poured for him and threw it across the kitchen. It smashed against one of the mahogany stained cupboards, next to the refrigerator. He watched it shatter, the broken pieces flying everywhere. One of the glass shards struck him below his right eye. He felt the cut line with blood and trickle down his cheek. The stench of copper and fermented grapes swirled in the air, an interesting combination, especially when added to the lingering cloud of smoke. “Clean up the mess in here.” She lifted her wine glass and shuffled out.   
    “Yes, Mother.” He went and picked up a piece of glass. A drop of blood dripped onto the bone white tile. I have to get out of here .

4. Second Chance
     
    Dervinias was kelvieri by species, and a scientist by trade. As he leaned over his microscope and peered into the lens, a high-pitched ping flicked behind his right eye.
    Only one person had access to him by this means of communication—the King of Canaru —his boss, and adulterer father. The man who’d banished him to Earth almost two centuries ago. He closed the lid over his eye and touched the center of it with his middle finger. An image of the King blipped into his eye. “Your Highness, to what do I owe this honor?” 
    “Listen closely. Palmo has royally mucked up. Venus is headed toward Earth.”
    “How many times has he screwed up? When will you learn, fa — ”
    “Hold your tongue.”
    “But Earth. Why? That wasn’t part of the plan. She was to be sent to Jihyra .”
    “I know that,” he roared. “He was at least successful in convincing all of Kelari that the princess is a traitor and a murderer. And that she’s run away to avoid her fate.”
    “Still—”
    “Quiet! Venus must be destroyed. Immediately upon her arrival.”
    “You know I can’t kill our kind. If I did, you know what’ll happen, unless you’ve forgotten. And I’d be no use to you there.” As he spoke, he dropped a blue liquid onto the cells. Under the microscope, he watched them writhe, multiply and suddenly start to die. Damn.
    “You’re of no use to me now.