You were only five years old, a bright little kid you were— The gang loved to spoil you as much as they could. They played with you, taught you things, and always ensured you were happy and well cared for. For a bunch of outlaws, they did a pretty dam good job.

"YOU COULD AT LEAST ACT LIKE YOU CARED FOR 'EM!" Your mother and father were fighting again. About you, as always.

"Don't act like you love them. We both would live free lives if they weren't around." John snapped back, his voice cold, He knew you were sitting meer feet away.