For as long as he could remember, Rod Lane always hoped the day would come…when everything would be okay.

For eight years now, Rod's mother Sofia had been serving time in a penitentiary for murdering his father, David. It was a marriage doomed from the start. David grew up in a tough Irish-Catholic household in "Steels"—the working-class area of Springwood. His family was against him marrying a Latina girl, especially one who could barely speak English. But David insisted on marrying Sofia. Although David was never an angel by any means, the added family pressure led him to hit the bottle much more frequently. The problems only grew worse when Rod was born. He would beat Sofia every day. Since toddler hood, Rod barely recalled a day when his mother wasn't covering her bruises. When Rod was old enough, he would be given his share of beatings as well. Even though the cops were called on certain occasions, Sofia refused to press charges against David. Finally, Sofia had had enough, and shot David with his own revolver. How fitting that the gunshot hit David straight in the heart.

Since his mother's incarceration, Rod had been living with other family members. But given his abused background, Rod proved to be a difficult child. After several run-ins with the law, which included petty theft and vandalism, Rod's family finally gave up on him. They sent him to live in a group home in Springwood.

It had been six months already, and Rod was growing used to Springwood again. He was attending Springwood High School, and even had a girlfriend: Tina Gray. Life was as close to normal as possible. But old habits died hard. Rod fell in with the wrong crowd again, and would still party into the wee hours of the night. However, with age, Rod grew better at hiding his indiscretions.

One night, Rod had been hanging out with the crazier members of the high school football team. Coming from a privileged background, the guys felt more rebellious having Rod Lane around. Despite being half-Irish, he inherited much of his mother's features—dark skin and black hair. For them, Rod was their very own "Pancho." When the other guys couldn't keep their liquor down, Rod took over driving. He sped down the roads on the outskirts of Springwood. He had the window down, letting the wind hit his face. The beer was getting to him, and Rod felt like he was almost flying. The guys were hooting at the top of their lungs, yelling at Rod to go faster. Rod had full control, until he turned on a curve. He didn't realize he was in the other lane until a car was coming towards him. Rod crashed headfirst into the car. It was almost as if God himself was looking down on Rod. He had been smart to clip on his seatbelt. The rest of the guys were either unconscious or went headfirst through the windshield. Rod collected himself, and stumbled away from the accident.

Rod managed to sneak back in. It wasn't that hard, though. The home was understaffed, and the employees who were there gave little thought to security. The next day, Rod would see the newspaper article. The football players were all dead, including the driver of the other car. The man's name was Alan Parker. He was survived by a wife and daughter. Rod felt so guilty about the incident that he vowed never to touch alcohol again.

Rod's girlfriend Tina sensed something amiss about Rod. But she never asked him. Besides, Tina liked that mysterious aspect of Rod. She knew that he had a troubled past. But Tina wasn't interested in knowing anything about it. The sex was great, and the times they spent together were wild, so Tina didn't have any complaints. Tina's friend Nancy seemed genuinely concerned about Rod. It was pretty ironic, given that Nancy's father was the lieutenant of the Springwood Police Department, and always gave Rod such a hard time. If Lt. Thompson knew that Nancy associated with Rod, he would've probably had a heart attack. Glen Lantz, Nancy's boyfriend, was a self-righteous prig. Rod hated the guy, and almost kicked his ass a few times. But he didn't do it, out of respect to Nancy. She was always willing to give him a chance. Rod felt like he owed her.

When a few days passed without the cops knocking on the group home door, Rod felt safe. He decided to lay low for a while, even avoiding Tina for a few days. After tossing and turning for hours, Rod finally fell asleep.

In the middle of the night, Rod awoke to hear a car horn blaring in the street. Rod tried to ignore it, but the sound was getting louder. He sat up and looked at his roommate. But Rod's roommate didn't budge. Rod put on his pants and shirt, and made his way outside. He walked down the house's stone path. Its coldness made Rod regret not putting on his socks. The car looked like a Chevy Impala, and its windows were all tainted black. You might say that it looked like a hearse. The headlights gave off an eerie orange glow. Rod felt like turning back, but he had to maintain his macho demeanor.

"Hey, asshole, what are you honking your horn so much for? You want something?" asked Rod, in his most intimidating voice.

The driver kept honking his horn. Rod noticed the passenger window was rolled down. Out of anger and instinct, Rod put his head into the car.

"Are you deaf or something? Stop honking your fucking horn!"

Rod was surprised to see who the driver was.

"Get in the fucking car now," said Rod's mother, Sofia.

Before Rod could process her words, he was sitting in the passenger seat. Sofia was peeling rubber down the road. Rod could barely see through the windshield, as it was covered with dry leaves and dirt. He wondered how Sofia could drive.

"Why does he get to ride shotgun?" asked somebody in the back. Rod turned around, and saw the football players that died the night of the car accident. They were rotted corpses, looking green and brown from decomposition. Pus oozed out of every pore. Worms were even coming out of one of the guy's eye socket.

"Because he's my son, you honky dipshit!" yelled Sofia. "You just had to hang out with guys that were like your bastard father."

"What's going on?" asked Rod. "How'd you get out of jail?"

"How do you think?" asked Sofia. "I clawed out."

She showed Rod her hands, and they were worn down to the bone. Rod looked at the steering wheel, and saw that it was stained with blood.

"Where are we going?" asked Rod. The car seemed to be going at turbo speed.

"What's this "we"?" asked Sofia. "I'm getting away from you and this town."

Rod stared at his mother uncertainly.

"You know…if I didn't have a loser son like you, I would've got away from that bastard sooner," said Sofia.

The football players laughed in the car, giving high fives to each other. Tears started running down Rod's face.

"But no, I had to take care of you. You were always such a little pussy. You used to shit your pants every time he walked into the door. You stupid little fucker."

"Man, that's cold," injected one of the football players, as his jaw flapped from one side.

"I rotted in prison for all those years because of you!" screamed Sofia.

Rod couldn't take it anymore.

"Let me out of the car!" he yelled, banging against the door.

"You'll leave…when I want you to," said Sofia. Only Sofia's voice sounded deep and primal…like a man's.

Rod turned to face his mother. Half of her body looked like her. While the other half looked burned and masculine. The other half also was wearing a red and green sweater. It…or he…extended a razor-studded glove towards him.

"I'm going to start with you first, wetback," said the demonic-looking man.

With all his might, Rod forced the passenger door open. He hit the road hard. Just then, a car was driving towards Rod. He rolled out of the way in time, and tumbled down a hill. It felt like forever, as Rod was battered against rocks and branches. He finally stopped rolling. But just as soon as he stood up, Rod could see the car flying off the hill towards him. He began running, but his feet felt like cement. Rod could feel the car land a few feet behind him, and the force catapulted him against a hard surface.

Rod could hear metal scraping against metal. It was the man running his finger knives against the car's exterior. He was laughing menacingly.

Rod leaned against the hard surface to stand up. He looked down to see that it was a tombstone. Inscribed on the tombstone was the name ROD LANE. The scraping sounded again, and Rod began running passed the tombstones until they became blurry streaks of gray. Rod was stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a young girl standing a few feet away from him. A petite blonde, she couldn't have been older than nine.

"Daddy…Daddy!" she screamed. The little girl was standing next to an open grave.

Rod tried running towards the girl—to warn her of the man. But it was almost as though he hit a clear force field.

He turned to see the grave plot in front of him. The man was scraping his finger knives against each other. His footsteps were growing closer, and Rod had nowhere to go except for the grave plot. He looked down to see his room. His roommate was snoring away. Rod turned and could see the man holding his knives towards him. Rod jumped into the plot, and slammed against his bed. Rod woke up in a start, covered from head to toe in sweat.

As he made his way towards the entrance of Springwood High School, Rod could see Tina, Nancy and Glen. Rod wanted to tell Tina all about the dream he had last night. But he couldn't let her see him so vulnerable. Instead of opening up his feelings, Rod put on a show for the crowd.

"I had a hard-on this morning when I woke up, Tina... Had your name written all over it…."