Carol was David's mother, and like it or not, I had to respect that. I used his body, which means I took over his life. Without David, I would be dead... Our conversation about his lack of connections with people made me agree with Carol, that he had received of a lot of physical abuse from his father. It wasn't inconceivable to think that a boy growing up, abused by a violent bastard, would cut himself off from emotional attachments out of fear of being hurt even more.As I stumbled around the. No one gives a shit anyway. But today we make a difference. Life is what you make it, my mother told me. This was soon after the Damocles virus ruined me, twenty-two years ago now. I was only eight when the virus that the Muslims stolen from the United States and loosed on the world caught up with me, my father escaped this fate by virtue of being dead -- lucky bastard. My mother gave up her drinking when I was thirteen, replaced it with a bottle of tranquillisers to help her. More

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