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Cloud looked across the attic, spotting the cardboard box she had been looking for. A sad smile formed on her face and without hesitation, she kneeled next to it, unafraid of the memories she knew it would kick up. With trembling hands, she opened the box like it was a rare treasure. To Cloud, it was just that. This box held her past. The past that she both loved and hated at the same time.

After searching through the box for some time, she carefully lifted out an old picture. Gingerly wiping the dust off of the frame, she couldn’t help but laugh. The picture revealed her and her late mother. The mother she had loved and given up everything but her own life to protect. Cloud didn’t regret her choices. Given the chance, she’d go through it again if it would mean saving her mother.

How many years Cloud had lived with the abuse her stepfather had dealt out, she didn’t quite remember. But she did remember, clear as day, when this picture had been taken. It had been a day of both good and bad memories. Things she cherished in her heart. It had been that day that her stepfather had begun the years of abuse that had changed her life forever. That part, was almost forgotten, but the rest…

It had been her birthday. Her mother had surprised her by showing up an hour early at her singing lessons with the intention of taking her out for ice cream. However, Cloud’s dreams, everything had been shattered when she and her mother had gone home.

Cloud smiled sadly at the memory. Stubborn, even as a young girl at the age of five. She had protected her mother and in return for her trouble, her stepfather had stabbed her in the shoulder blade. The pain, she knew, would never be out of her mind. Even now, twenty, married, and another child on the way, she remembered.

She had never let it stop her. Cloud had met DeadShot and her dreams had been reborn. Memories of her stepfather’s abuse were disappearing. So few times to think about the past. All that was there now was the future. From where she stood now, that future looked beautiful.

Beautiful. Something her husband called her so often. Cloud smiled again and hugged the photo to her chest. Carefully, she placed it back into the box.

‘Someday,’ Cloud whispered. ‘Someday you can come out again.’

That day, Cloud knew, was not far off. Her pain was nearly gone. Soon, she would be able to look at the pictures of her mother and not break down in a rush of emotion and tears. For now, however, the thought of her mother’s death was too new. Too fresh and vivid.

Cloud closed the box and walked down the stairs to the living room before turning off the attic lights and leaving her pain to be forgotten once more.

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