Targeted [EDITING...]

44

Hi.

idk if I'm good at plot twist but here y'all go

also, let's double upload shall we?

I'm a little bit sick tho , my body hurts, but I'm still here.

Kasia

Mother told me she wanted to talk later, but I followed her because I was curious. Silver and I were coming to a conclusion that maybe my supposed mother wasn't actually my mother.

"Mother, wait," I called out to her and she paused. "I'm free talk now," I walked up to her.

She sighed, once again looking over me. "You really have grown, Kasia." She said.

I furrowed my brows. "I doubt that's what you want to tell me right now."

She shook her head. "Call me Jacqueline," she said, exhaling. "I am not your mother."

Hesitantly, I nodded, trying my best to remain calm and stoic. Do it like Silver. I told myself. "Who is my mother?" My voice remained strong.

Jacqueline frowned. "She was a–" she closed her eyes and sighed. "She was a prostitute and your dad slept with her and impregnated her. For two years, she kept you hidden, stealing from people to survive–but she stole from the wrong people one day and she died. Social services came to our house one day with you. Your mother had a diary in which she stated who impregnated her–"

"Where is it?" I asked, desperately wanting to know who she was.

"It's gone. The house–or rather the shelter you guys were in burned down when you were eight."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "You–"

"I know," she said. "I treated you horribly because for those three years you were alive, I was having miscarriages left and right. I was bitter that a prostitute with no money to care for a child had one while me, who could take care of many children couldn't even have one. I was jealous and angry because a prostitute's daughter was smarter than my own two kids with better education–But, now I am old and I am remorseful." Jacqueline sighed. "I may keep my head high but I am sorry. You did nothing wrong, it was your father that cheated but I was able to forgive him."

"If he was my father, why did he treat me so badly as well?" I asked, biting my lip, waiting for the dreaded answer.

"You were proof of his infidelity. You were almost the cause of the divorce of our marriage...we were both looking for someone to be mad at and you were most convenient."

"Oh, so choosing to–"

"Please," Jacqueline closed her eyes, pleading. "I've been so evil, I don't know who've I've become–but I don't want to hear of my deeds, but I will pay for it. I will treat your son as my own and so will your father."

"He couldn't even apologize to me," I scowled.

"His pride, dear," Jacqueline answered. "It is no excuse but we often talk of our regrets and your name always pops up. Regretting the way we treated you. I am so sorry."

I took in a shaky breath. I didn't know what to do. My mother is dead, my real mother, but I couldn't cry. The parents that I know are sorry for everything they've done, but can I really trust that?

Should I easily forgive them like this?

But wasn't that what I wanted? For them to be sorry, for them to apologize. Why do I feel so torn about this? What should I do?