The Truths Behind the Life of Maeve Sun Lively

105

I NEVER FULLY REALIZED THE utmost capacity of how angry you can get.

This fueling rage in me couldn't be tamed down. It was so wild that I could feel it overtaking me, holding control over my own head and body. I don't struggle, letting this feeling eat and swallow me. This feeling and I wanted to destroy everything here.

Am I Izzy Adams? Izzy Sun Lively? Izzy Li? Izzy Kong? What the hell am I? What the hell happened to me?

Pretty easy and simple: Maeve threw me away like a piece of trash.

I grabbed up the lamp next to me on the desk, about to throw it across the room, when my eyes skimmed down to Rosalie.

She was staring at me, hyperventilating kind of, and laughing at the same time. I glared at her, angry tears filling my eyes.

"What's so damn funny?"

"Everything," she said, laughing harder.

"Stop laughing."

She kept laughing.

"Stop it," I wanted to punch her in the face nice and hard for the first time since she came into my life and fetched me out of the steady pace of it. She fetched me out of it just for this? For me to find out that, yes, I did have a birth mother and father, but the most ultimate famous actress, Maeve Sun Lively, threw me away and tore me from the family and love I could have had.

I had spent almost every day of my life thinking that my birth parents didn't want me. But this whole time, Maeve was the one under all of it. I was so foolish for not having seen it coming sooner.

And now...now...the two people that mattered and that I didn't know were related to me are both dead.

Even the one who committed the crime is dead.

Everyone is fucking dead.

I lowered the lamp, letting angry tears run down my face. I fell below to the floor next to Rosalie, crying beside her.

I'm so weak. I hate it. I wish I got to know them. I only knew all of them through the screen and TV. I admired each of them at one point in my life. Even Maeve. She, out of everyone, I had idolized the most.

"I'm never forgiving her," I said out loud, both for Rosalie and I to hear. I hold the recorder that has run itself out, my grip on it so tight my knuckles turn white. I want to break it. I want to destroy everything she left behind in that box. But I find that I...somehow can't. I feel madder at myself for not being able to even be mad and angry the correct way. Why can't I just break the damn thing?

Rosalie, I turned to look beside me, who had been laughing just a few seconds ago was now crying at the same time. The two actions look too alike; she might as well be doing both.

"So this is what you and Carlise have been hiding from me this entire time." I confronted her, eyes squinted, but the person in front of me, I realize, doesn't care anymore. She looks like she doesn't care about anything in fact.

Like I said nothing, she starts to fidget with her fingers, long red hair that is so perfect anyone in the world would admire falling over her body as she hugged her legs to her chest.

"She didn't die of old age."

I looked at her, my chest still heaving up and down from being so angry. "What are you saying?"

Her eyes were glassy and filled with a sadness so spaced I can't comprehend.

"Maeve. Maeve didn't die of old age. She overdosed."