The Possessive Bully

Part 38

My vision started to blurry and my knees felt like jello.

Am I adopted?

My chest hurts. Hundreds of Knives stab my heart from different directions. I'm bleeding but my heart continues to beat.

My brain yells at me. Speak.

I told myself again.

Speak!

But my tongue's tied. I can't find the courage to ask mum if it's all true.

"...Sweetie.", she whispered, her eyes full of fear.

I can see it in her eyes. There's no need for words. I can already see the truth that lies in her eyes.

How could you do this to me, Mum?

Or do I even have the right to call you that?

All this time. I can't believe it.

"Sweetie, let me explain.", she said and stood up. She took a step forward but I stopped her.

"No, please. I... I want to be alone.", I said.

I did not wait for her response. I dashed out of the house, into the darkness.

The wind was cold as fuck but My heart was burning too much that it made my body numb.

I felt my tears flow down my face as I continue to run, without thinking about where to go.

I felt betrayed. The person I trusted the most-lied about my entire existence.

I'm nothing but a lost sheep. I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere else.

I'm an empty soul.

Where should I go? Is there a place I could call home?

Mum... she was once my home.

It fucking hurts. Everything was a lie. Is my name even real?

I stopped in my tracks and looked up at the sky. It looked like it was about to rain. I can't see any stars.

I... don't know what to feel anymore.

"Krysh?"

I looked at the owner of the voice.

Oh. That's funny.

My feet dragged me to this guy. I didn't even notice I was already running in this direction.

Isn't it ironic? I chose Mum over this guy and it turned out I'm not even her real daughter.

I can't help but laugh.

"Are you okay?", he asked and stirred his wheel closer to me.

I stared at him as he cross their lawn. "What are you doing out in here? You should be resting.", I said as I wipe the tears off my face.

He frowned at me but his features softened when he saw the tears on my face.

"Oh, That's sweat.", I lied.

"Doesn't look like sweat to me."

I looked down at him. He's sitting in his wheelchair, staring at me.

I haven't seen him in a while. Not seeing him felt like years. Looking at him, only made the wound ache more.

"It's sweat. I was running."

"To me?"

It was a half-baked joke. I could have said no with a blink of an eye if it was a normal day. But this is not just some ordinary day.