Dancing In His Storm [BxB] √

23.5: The Storm

AMBROSE

I really thought I would feel much lesser pain if I confront my dad about me being adopted. I really thought looking at him straight in the eye would at least lessen the agony and that I would take the truth in utter silence and complete acceptance. I was dead ass wrong in all levels. Eavesdropping and learning about it in secret was already agonizing but I never would've thought it would hurt like hell to hear it come out straight from my dad's mouth. What more if my mom's there. I'm she would roast me to ashes with her ruthless mouth and that would definitely hurt more than I know. I'm sure my dad tried to beat around the bush and perhaps lie about it but I was quick to shut him down. He doesn't have much of a choice but to let the cat out of the bag.

My chest and my heart seemed like an idle dart board and once I heard everything come out of my dad's lips, the words appeared like sharpened darts pins. This was clearly an emotional and mental torture and I'm the pitiful victim. I just wasted the whole day hoping that I'd be strong enough but clearly I'm not. I'm as fragile as a glass and now I'm shattered to million pieces.

Anger was already beginning to control my body and I punched the wall leaving a small and visible dent. There are now two dents at the wall right next to each other and if I continue being unable to manage this unspeakable wrath, the walls are probably going to be lined with them. These dents are the signs of my wrath but that's not even all of it. I went on my knees and began punching the floor instead. I can feel the hardness of the marbled floor. The impact was hurting pretty solid but it's not enough to let me stop from punching and just releasing this emotion. I feel like there's a storm slowly forming inside of me that's just waiting to release its mad fury.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I cursed out as tears began to drop from my eyes. By the time I've had enough of punching the floor, my knuckles were already bleeding. There's some droplet of hot blood on the floor. My breathing was already racing and I had to slow down and take control of my body but there's just no way I'm going to bottle all of this anger up inside me. After a while, I leaned against the nearest wall and hugged my knees tighter than ever. I stayed on that position for about five minutes until I ended up walking towards the window. With one strong blow, I punched the window creating a loud crashing noise. My eyes looked at the shattered glass on the floor and my hand picked up one sharp piece.

I was already thinking about ending this pain once and for all. I don't think I have any solution to every shit that I'm in. This family drama. This thing with August. And just my life in general. I don't think there's someone that would cry their heart out when I'm gone. I don't think a lot of people would be sad about my death.

I tightened my grip on the sharp piece of broken glass and I was ready to slit my throat with it. With one quick stroke, I just have to cut deep in order to let a rush of blood that would eventually take my life. It's going to be a bloody and a painful death but I don't give a crap at all. I just want to end this.

I was about to perform my plan when I heard my phone ring. I tried ignoring it but the sound was just obnoxious that I have to shut it off almost immediately. I dropped the piece of broken glass and walked towards where I left my phone. I saw August was calling me again and for a while, I thought of answering the phone. Perhaps hearing Ambrose's voice was the one saving grace that I need in order to continue living this life. I stared at my phone for a while until I heard a loud knocking on my door.

"Ambrose," My dad called for my name. I was a bit surprised that he followed me but I guess we never ended the conversation.

"Go away!" I yelled knowing that I don't want to talk. I'm swamped with pain and anger that I can't even think straight.

"Can we talk please?" My dad's voice was surprisingly calm and in a such a bizarre way, it sounded very understanding. I have never known him to be this kind of person but I guess that's because he's feeling the sharp claws of guilt.

"I don't want to talk." I shouted making my voice firm hoping that he'd listen.

"Ambrose, please!" He begged. "I'm going to explain everything to you if you could just let me." He added and that sounded like an opportunity to me. It was not as convincing but I felt really compelled to open the door and continue bombarding him with lots of questions. I deserve a lot of explanation and this was probably the way I could earn it.

I slowly moved behind the door and I was already holding the doorknob. I held the metal tight and I was so close to opening the door but there's something that prevented me from actually opening it.

"I'm not ready to talk." I spat in a much calmer disposition.

"Okay, I understand." My dad blurted out after a few moments of silence. This was the first time that I felt my dad's not asserting his overly used patriarchal force. He usually gets what he wants but it's time for him to step down from his high horse. "Let me know when you are ready to talk. You can ask me everything you want. I'll be here." He muttered and then I his footsteps as he left.

In a way, I was glad that my dad did not force himself to open the door. If there's one thing that I need from right now, that him trying to understand how I truly feel about this whole debacle. There's no denying the fact that I'm extremely itching to hear all of my questions be answered, but I wasn't just ready.

I sat at the very edge of my bed and stared outside the broken widow. There was nothing but darkness just like how I'm feeling right now. I have stopped sobbing and yet my chest still felt heavy but something has changed. I don't want to take my life now. I don't think my dad would want that. I don't think August would want that either.

I propped myself up and walked towards the window where I instantly saw my older brother's grave. The light coming from every window was more than enough to bring light to his lonely grave. I was right all along. My older brother was the reason for all of these misery and suffering that's keep on haunting me every single day. If he didn't die, I'd probably be living with my biological parents, and I'm going to believe my life would be better if not great. I don't know who my real parents are but there's this thought that I might actually be living a happy life.

I ushered myself back to my bed and tried forcing myself to sleep.