Falling Slowly

Chapter Fourteen: Running Away

Beautifully done graphic by my good friend Ly! ♥

Chapter Fourteen: Running Away

I was thankful that Mrs. Claemont had sixth period prep. No one saw my breakdown except for her, and it would have been utterly humiliating if anyone else did. What would I say? What would she say?

Anya found out she’s adopted. Everyone keep calm, and give her space.

Yeah. Right.

It would be exact opposite of what people would do. They’d probably stare at me with huge bulging eyes and study me as if I was some unknown species from outer space.

Mrs. Claemont didn’t exactly know what to do. I heard her calling my name, but it wasn’t registering. Nothing made sense. It felt like I was in my own black corner of the world with the ground slowly dissolving around me until I fell into a dark bottomless pit; lost to the unknown before me.

A million questions filled my head, none lasting more than a few seconds. Who was I? Who were my real parents? Why didn’t they tell me? Where they ever going to tell me? Why did they give me up? Did they not want me?

I gasped for air as if I was drowning. My breath came out in short, labored. I immediately knew that I was having an anxiety attack and I needed to pull it together. Mrs. Claemont sank down to her knees and was telling me to concentrate on the chair in front of me. I did as she said, and slowly everything came back into focus. Under her breath she muttered Dad’s name, and began to take her phone out. That’s when everything became clear and clicked.

I shook my head and laid my hand over the phone she held. “No, please. I’m fine.” It was a lie. I was most definitely not fine. But I had to deal just like everyone else did when they when a terrible truth was discovered.

With my mind functioning properly and my bearings straight, I picked my crumbled self from the ground. I mumbled my goodbye to Mrs. Claemont, the door clanking shut behind me as my name echoed behind me. I marched down the empty hall with anger seething in my veins. Dad also had sixth period prep, and I couldn’t see a better time to confront him. This couldn’t wait until later.

He was surprised to see me as I stepped into the room, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. It was almost enough to stop me from unleashing my wrath on him. Almost.

I thought that when I spoke my voice would have had a note of fury or betrayal, but instead it was weak, hurt; like a small bird chirping the lost of its mother as it was left abandoned in a nest high up in a tree.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

His brows furrowed in confusion as he set the eraser down, and patted his hands together to get rid of the residue. “What are you talking about, honey?” He peered at his watch and raised an eyebrow. “You’re late to class. What’s the matter?”

“You lied to me,” I repeated. “How could you never tell me? Where you and Mom ever going to tell me I was adopted? Or were you going to keep it a secret for the rest of my life?”

His eyes widened in shock at the sound of my voice, rising with every word that left my lips. He took a hesitant step forward, and I matched his by stepping back – not wanting him near me. If he touched me I would break like a porcelain doll.

His eyes lingered to the cards in my hands. His eyes – they were the same shade of brown as mine. Maybe they were a little darker, but I definitely shared Mom’s exact eye color. When we went into town there had been many instances where people said I looked like her. That couldn’t have been a mistake on their part. How then…could I ever think I was adopted – that I didn’t belong to them?