Spitting Image • TFC 3.0 • l.t. au

Chapter Sixty Eight

FREDDIE TOMLINSON IS SO CUTE AND HIS DADDY'S SO HOT!

68

The walk to my father's house is not that far from ours. But the distance seem to get further and further the closer I am. I can't hear anything around me except the sound of my own heartbeat and the voice in my head asking questions after questions.

My hands get clammy the closer I make the turn to their street. I feel soulless and my mind seems to wander somewhere else. My feet are dragging me to a place I've never contemplated of going to until now.

I haven't thought about what I'll say to him, I haven't thought about what to do the moment I'm there and I don't know how this is going to end.
But the mindset I've had for myself is that this for me and my family; nothing else. That's all the motivation I have right now and I'm trying so hard not to let my anger and pride crush that motivation.

As much as I know, that's all I have to think of right now. And as much as I want to stop and run back to the house when I see their door, I force myself to keep walking. If I've walked this far, I should finish it at least.

I lift myself up to the first step. Second step. Third step. And finally, the last step. I clench my hand into a fist as I knock on the door. My hands are shaking and my legs feel like gelatine. I hear ruckus in the house and I'm contemplating with myself. This is my last chance to turn around and run—

And the door opens.

It's not the person I expected to see. A young boy with blonde hair who's about the same height as me. Strangely, he shares my features but of course that's normal because we share the same father. He has an innocent smile on his face as he greets me, "Good morning." He says. Does he even remember me? "Can I help with anything?" He asks.

Does he remember me? Probably not.

No, he probably doesn't. "Is your dad home?" I ask, smiling back at the young lad.

"Oh yeah, yeah. Come in. I'll call him down for you." He says, ushering me in. "Do you want anything? Coffee, tea... Anything?" He asks but I simply shake my head.

"It's fine, love. Thanks anyway. I just need to have a word with your dad and I'll be on my way." I tell him. He nods after a pause like he's trying to remember something.

I look around my father's house and notice the walls are mounted with photographs of Luke and Melanie. It starts from their wedding to Luke's toddler years going to him as a young boy to now. It's a typical family home with photographs everywhere of a couple's son and themselves.

One photograph caught my eye, though. On the consul, there's a tattered old photograph of a young girl sat on the porch of an old house. The photograph is greying and there are blotches and tears on the side. At the bottom of the photograph, there etched a small "2003" which is the year when this photograph was taken.

My head snapped to the staircase when I hear footsteps. "He's coming down now." Luke says with his eyes snapping to the photo that intrigued me as well.

Then I pluck up the courage to ask him, "Do you know her?" I ask him, pointing at the photo.

I know who that girl is. It's me. I'm the young girl in the photograph. But to my dismay, he shakes his head. He does pick up the photo and smiles at me.

"I don't know her but it's crazy cause..." He says, crossing his arms. "I've been asking mum and dad for years who the girl is but I've never gotten an answer."

So he has never talked about me to Luke. I didn't expect he would, anyway.

"Really?" I ask him. I watch the young lad trying to remember a moment that obviously was a long time ago.