I Found You, Something Told Me To Stay - (Jason Berry/Zacky Vengeance)

Chapter Three.

I stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate, and shrugged my shoulders in confusion when she didn’t anything.

“You took me out?” I repeated her words. “So?”

“Jason—your dad—got worried. He was scared that because I was so ill, I was putting you in danger.” She explained. “He followed after me and we had this huge fight and broke up. I went to stay at a friend’s for the night and took you with me, but the next thing I knew, Jason was hammering on my friend’s front door and telling me that he was going to apply for custody of you. I got even more scared, so I stopped him.”

“How?” I frowned, not understanding.

“A couple of years before you were born, when he was about fourteen, your dad got into a situation.” She ran her hands through her hair, fidgeting, and I could tell she was getting uncomfortable.

“What kind of situation?”

“A pretty bad one. I’m not going into detail.” She said. “However, it was never reported to the police and no-one ever found out. Me and our friends were the only ones that knew.” She paused again. “But I was so scared that I did the first thing that came to my head. I told him that if he applied for custody of you, I’d report him to the police.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It didn’t seem like any of it was possible, but as I stared my mother, the only thing I could bring myself to do was shake my head in disgust.

“I told him that I would keep his secret as long as he stayed out of your life.” She continued. “Then I left for England, and that’s where I met Rob. I thought it best to tell you he was your dad so that you didn’t miss out on having a father.”

“But I did!” I shouted, standing up. “I did miss out because Rob never cared! And to be honest, I don’t really blame him! You blackmailed my real father so that he would stay out of my life? That’s sick, Mum, that’s real freaking sick!”

“I know.” She sobbed harder now, crying into her hands. “But I was scared! I was so, so terrified that I was going to lose you!”

“Oh, well, way to go about it!” I sarcastically said, narrowing my eyes at her. “Lying to me for seventeen, nearly eighteen years was really going to make me want to stay!”

I couldn’t even feel the slightest bit sorry for her as she cried. I was disgusted and quite frankly distraught that my mother could even do such a thing.

“It makes sense.” I said. “I mean, I always wondered why I looked completely different to you and da—Rob. Now I guess I know.”

“I didn’t want it to come to this, Midge, I swear!”

“This is so fucked up.” I shook my head, giving a humourless laugh as I fell back into the chair.

She didn’t say anything else. I knew she’d given up with apologies and excuses, and I was tired of hearing them. I didn’t know what I was going to do now that I knew all of this.

Things couldn’t carry on as normal. Nothing would ever be the same.

Abruptly standing up, I stalked over to the living room door and yanked it open.

“Where are you going?” Mum frantically asked me, her voice cracking.

“To my room.” I snapped back, whipping my head round to glare at her. “Don’t speak to me.”

At that point, I didn’t care what kind of state she was in. I’d spent my whole life looking out for her and making sure she was okay, only to find out that she’d been lying to me. Of course, I knew what would happen. She’d cry some more and then drown her sorrows in wine.

I stopped in my bedroom doorway, just staring around my room. I needed to take my anger out on something, but what exactly, I wasn’t sure.

It was then that it caught up with me. That the conversation I’d just had with my mother really hit me. Bursting into tears, I wandered into my room and slammed the door behind me, then throwing myself on my bed and getting the photograph out of my pocket.

I studied it carefully, my eyes blurred by my tears. By now, it was completely crumpled from the many times I’d folded it and unfolded it. But staring at it was just the oddest thing. Sure, I’d only know the truth for about an hour or so, but it was something I just couldn’t wrap my head around, I couldn’t see myself ever doing so.

But the main question was, what was I to do about it?

I couldn’t just let it settle and act like none of this had happened. Somehow, I needed to take action and do something about it, but what? I couldn’t even imagine this situation happening at all, let alone happening to me, so trying to think of some solution just wasn’t possible right now.

I could hear my mum going into the garage from downstairs. I knew that meant that she was getting more wine, but I honestly couldn’t care right now. Throughout my whole life, I’d been put in so many situations where I’d had to rip the bottle out of my mum’s hand and dragged her drunken, nearly passed-out body up to her room.

It was even worse when I was little, and too young to understand. It got slightly better over the years as I grew up, but all I could really remember from my childhood was wondering why she went into random bouts of depression, and “dad”, or Robert rather, got angry about it and disappeared until she snapped out of it.

When I really thought about it, my childhood had never really been all that happy.

And now I knew why.

The fact that I knew I had to do something about it was scarily intimidating.

But the fact that I wasn’t sure what or how was worse.

Far, far worse.