Adam [BOOK ONE]

III

TRUTH IS UNCOMFORTABLE BUT NECESSARY FOR GROWTH

"Hello, my name is Elena Nance. I work very closely with Dr. Baker and he gave me this address in hopes that you would have some information pertaining to a roommate you used to have, Adam."

"He gave you this house number?"

I shifted the bag on my shoulder uncomfortably, "yes he did."

"What'd you say your name was?"

"Elena."

"Well Elena, how about you and that bastard doctor take your fucking presence elsewhere. I haven't been at that got damn hospital in forever and you have no right to come to my fucking house and try to strong arm information about some weirdo out of me."

"I apologize for the inconvenience, but-"

"Screw off bitch!"

The door slamming in my face was a brutal reminder of how the world worked. I had spent most of my life working with shy, timid people who were scared to even raise their voice a little. As much as I hated it, I was fairly disconnected from the world. I left the front porch slowly, glancing back in hopes he would change his mind. I need something about Adam, anything. I felt shut-out and that scared me.

"Miss?"

I turned around quickly, this time an older woman was standing in the doorway. She was short and round, and her face looked extremely friendly. Deep blue eyes and a thick clump of grey on top of her head.

"I'm so sorry about my son," she took a deep breath, "it's been rough for him. Would you like to come in?"

"If it's going to be trouble-"

"No trouble at all. Please."

She moved sideways allowing me to enter the home. The outside was shabby, but the inside felt like home. The furniture was old but incredibly nice. Pictures lined almost every inch of the house, on top of cabinets, on the tv stand, some even sat on the window panes. The man I had just met, Andre, from the file the doctor had given me stood at the back door.

"You can never do simple fucking things for me."

"Andre-"

"Fuck you! I don't want her here. I already told her, I haven't been to that hospital in a very long time and I don't want someone throwing it in my face every five seconds."

"She just wants to ask you some questions."

"Fuck that, fuck her, and fuck you," he grabbed his coat, "I'm going out."

"Out where Andre?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

The door slammed behind him and we sat in an awkward silence. I shifted uncomfortably by the door and the woman, who I assumed to be his mother, motioned for me to sit beside her.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"I'm fine thank you," I paused to gather the right words, "is he always like this?"