My Broken Family

Chapter 1

"Milo James McCoy!" I holler in fear as my 2 year old son stands on our living room couch prepaired to jump off onto a pile of toy trucks, lincoln logs and the big leggos meant for younger children.

Startling Milo he falls backward against the back of the couch in a fight of giggles once he realizes that he isn't hurt and doesn't fully grasp that I am not happy that he was standing on the furniture let alone was going to hurt himself by belly flopping onto toys.

"Milo James, what were you going to do?" I ask as I pick him up, holding him in my arms against my chest.

Looking down into his big round eyes that remind me so much of his other father, Sean, who has blue eyes that are rimmed with the darkest green.

Sean and I broke up (not by my choice or mutal agreement) when I found out I was three months pregnant with Milo; being that I a male, I didn't notice the symptoms of being pregnant and not having a period to miss or question, I went to the doctor after a month of feeling like I had a damn stomach bug.

Milo was born on July 4th, 2016 weighing in at 9 pounds and 2 ounces and he was 23 inches long but thankfully I was only in labor for him for a total of five hours before he was born at 4:44 a.m. with my best guy friend and best female friend in the room with me.

I happened to be staying the night at their home when I went into labor with Milo at 11:44 p.m. My two best friends, Carmen and Victor are not only living together but they have been dating for the last three years and I foresee them being together for the rest of their lives.

Oh, I'm sorry, where are the manners that my granmummy who raised me that she taught me? My name is Reign (pronounced Rain) James McCoy; yes I am a male not a female, not that I have any issues with women but I am often confused for being female with my name.

I am 18 years old, just turned 18 two months ago on July 3rd, yup had my baby boy the day after my 16th birthday. My granmummy, Lola McCoy raised me from the time I was 3 years old until I turned 17 years old and I moved into my own two bedroom apartment with Milo, using some of my inhertience money from my father (granmummy's son) from when he died when I was 3 years old.

When Milo and I moved from her home, despite her protests, I paid for two years at the apartment straight away; I didn't want to have to worry about being late paying my rent. Granmummy pulled the money from my trust fund for me since I wasn't legally able to touch part of it until I turned 18 years old.

I work at a cafe that my father owned and I became its legal owner on my birthday but I still love working there and Milo comes with me most days, except for the few when granmummy or Carmen and Victor insist on spending my shift with him.

My dad who was raising me from the time I was born until he died in a car crash that was caused by a drunk driver swearving head on into his car with me inside. Dad was killed instantly and I was banged up with a broken left leg and arm and a few cuts and bruises; my left leg is shorter than my right and I walk with a limp.

Now you might be asking yourself where my mum has been my entire life, well that's easy to answer; she had signed off all of her rights to me the day I was born and had died of a drug overdose when I was about a year old. You also might be asking yourself why in the hell my father would name me Reign and again simple answer, he loved the rain, hence I was named Reign and my dad's middle name was James.

Sorry, I digressed quite a bit, so Milo and I have been on our own for a year now, with regular visits with granmummy and with Carmen and Vic and I have no other family so it's just the five of us. Speaking of my loved ones, they are supposed to be arriving in an hour and a half for family dinner night at my flat and I have got to put Milo down for his hour nap so he isn't a cranky, grumpy bear while everyoone is here.