Mates, part 12.

AN OUTBURST

"Is there a problem?" Mary questions watching Margaret at her door.

"Not quite. I was just remembering the past."

"Good memories, I hope," she says as she combs her black hair.

"You really are soft, you can hardly say that you are the same Mary as before," Margaret enters Mary's room and sits down on the bed.

"What does this mean?" Mary sits down too.

"You were once feared, the terror of the supernatural. In your eyes was notorious your hatred and contempt for them. You were a cold, calculating person. How did you get like this? I admired you so much, I wanted to be like you, but... Ever since Occisor came here… You haven't been you. "

Mary sighs. She remembers who she was, she remembers all the hatred she has nurtured in her brain, she remembers the son who has been taken away from her and who hates her more than anything. But now, with the family she'd built, with the scene she'd seen when she'd adopted Occisor, all her hatred had become grief and sorrow. Her view of the