I was still shaking the whole ride home. Nick seemed a little preoccupied drumming on the steering wheel, singing with "2010s Pop Hits" and didn't seem to notice my emotional breakdown.
I tried in vain to collect my emotions and focus on deep breaths but...what the actual heck?! My English teacher is a psychotic killer out for my blood—but why? Why me? What was so different about me? How could this even be real?!
When did my life come to this? Black goo and a teacher literally out to get me??
Well I don't want it. I want out. I want to move to fricken Mars or something. Get me off this heck-hole of a planet.
I was completely lost in my depressing and confusing maze of thoughts until I got yanked out of them by Nick staring at me and saying, "Fae. We're home. We have been for five minutes. Aren't you going to get out?"
I hadn't even realized the sudden stops and starts of downtown Seattle traffic, much less that we were parked in front of one of Seattle's skyscrapers.
Let's get this straight: I don't live in a skyscraper. Sure, I'm like ninety-nine percent positive Nick and Alesha have over a million dollars in their bank account, but if you got a mansion in the middle of Seattle, that would cost like a buttload of money. And my adoptive parents are smarter than to spend their money on something like that.
Instead we have penthouse at the top of a massive apartment building. And it's the size of a mansion, with its two floors, loft, rooftop porch that houses a garden and pool.
I hastily unbuckled my seatbelt, not wanting Nick to pester me about how long I zoned out for. He also unbuckled his seatbelt just as I climbed out of the car, giving a strange glance that looked like he wanted to ask me something.
I nearly ran inside to the lounge and, not even waving back at the doorman, stepped into the elevator that just slid open. I frantically pushed the button for the top floor, watching Nick enter the building, confused at my hastiness.
I guiltily waved at him from the elevator but he didn't notice me. The door slid to a shut and I fluffed the plush maroon carpet with my shoe, thinking.
Am I right to not tell Nick? Should I? If I do, will he just think I've completely gone crazy? No. No, I can't tell him. He would definitely think I'm crazy. But still, ditching him in the parking lot was a little mean. He didn't deserve it, I should've just made up an excuse.
When the bell finally dinged, the annoying elevator music stopped and the door slid open. The penthouse's inside came into view. For rich people, and their anything glittery and fragile sense of decoration, our house was very homey.
It was all canary yellow and periwinkle walls, gorgeous views of the clean parts of Seattle, and homey decorations. Though it's fall, and we should have scarecrows and orange-leaf decorations, it was a white and pink flowers. Their sweet smell is what Alesha calls a "natural air freshener". The only hint of fall here was some silver, fake pumpkins in little crannies around the house. They weren't plastic or styrofoam though, Alesha is very eco friendly. I don't think I've every used a plastic straw in my life.
I grabbed one of the chunky knit blankets and headed to my room. My room is on the second floor, and up the thick wooden stairs leading to the loft.
The loft is pretty big, I can easily have room for my fluffy, king size bed and a couch, desk, and window seat. I even have a small walk-in closet with this cute old fashioned lightbulb on the ceiling.
I flopped down on the bed and covered myself with the chunky blanket. Ugh. What is even my life anymore?
For who knows how long, I laid there. Doing absolutely nothing. And thinking absolutely to much. I heard footsteps and talking downstairs, then the clank of pots and pans being pulled out of the cabinets.
I realized I needed something to focus on—before I spiraled into an anxiety attack. Did I get any homework? No, it's the first day. But I do need a pencil.
Maybe there's some slight chance that Mrs Demon Psychopath was just like PMSing like really, really bad. Maybe she'll be chill again tomorrow if I get the right pencil?
Using this mindset, I walked across the room to my desk. I had a cup with an assortment of utensils in it, including highlighters, pens, crayons, and the occasional fork. But no pencils. For some reason I guess I just enjoy writing with forks better than traditional number two pencils.
I climbed down the stairs and headed to the kitchen. "Hey, Alesha? Do we by any chance have some number two pencils?"
She looked up from a pot full of boiling liquid, her auburn hair falling around her face. "Oh hi, sweetheart! I doubt it because Nick prefers the number three pencils, but maybe try the study?"
I nodded and headed that way, leaving the sounds of cooking food and Alesha's sweet perfume behind me.
Nick's study is the neatest place in the house. Everything is perfect, there isn't a speck of dust in sight, and I'm almost positive measures his stacks of papers so they're exactly even. Going in the study is precarious—if anything is moved even slightly (or if you breath wrong) Nick will tell that you were in there. The study isn't off limits, but he doesn't encourage going in here.
I quickly and carefully move toward the single row of pencils he keeps exactly the same length and with the same thin point.
The little numbers on the side all read "three". Shoot. Maybe Alesha's? Alesha is a fashion journalist for some big magazine. Her office has piles of old issues of various fashion magazines, bulletin boards covered in little notes and pictures, and crumpled papers everywhere. Her office is the opposite of Nick's, cluttered and messy, but also homey in a way due to the picture frames cautiously placed on her desk, the little fairy lights strung high on the walls, and cute little plants scattered around the room.
I navigated my way through the room, shoving books and crumbled papers aside. I scanned the room for pencils, but only seeing pens almost out of ink, with the end bent like Alesha had been chewing it.
Though I didn't see any, and knew there wasn't any in there, I still hung around. I had this weird tingling feeling that there was still something in here that I needed. I scanned the room, my eyes locking on to a small, plain cardboard box which was almost completely covered in other things. Boxes surrounded it and there was a cactus balancing precariously on top of it. It looked old and the tape wrapped over and over it was turning yellow. There was so much tape covering the opening it looked like Alesha really didn't want it opened in a long time.
I uncovered it and brushed my hand over the top. My fingers came back grey and coated in dust. I sank to the floor and twisted the package around in my hands, examining it. There wasn't any markings.
Some instinct made me grab the sissies from where they lay on the floor (that's a hazard, Alesha) and sliced open the tape. I pried it open and was seriously underwhelmed with what was inside.
It was an envelope. The paper was yellow and crumbled at the corners. I flipped it over and nearly dropped it in shock.
Dear my beautiful daughter, Fae Lopez
What? This is from my mother? My real one? A mix of emotions bubbled up in my chest. Why would Nick and Alesha hide this?
My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding when I opened it. I dumped the contents on the soft carpet. A thin, simple golden necklace fell to the floor, and a simple sheet of paper fluttered out.
"Hey, Fae it's time for dinner! I made your favorite—"
Alesha called, her heels clicking down the hall. I didn't notice.
I first reached for the necklace. It was beautiful. The chain was thin and had one golden bead was strung on it. The bead had a single, swirling sun on it. Maybe it was my imagination, but the necklace felt...warm? Like it was worn on a hot summer day.
My mind was racing and thought flew through my head, but a small part of me realized that the clicking of Alesha's heels had stopped. I turned quickly just as I saw her peek her head into the room.
She saw me sitting here—on the floor, necklace in hand, envelope and paper laying on the ground, the box tossed to the side, and the scissors half opened, a little piece of tape stuck to it.
Alesha stared in horror. Why? But before I even registered it, she was running toward me and grabbing the letter off the floor.
I reached for it but she backed away, shaking and crying. What was going on? "Alesha! Why did you do that? I found this! Why did you even hide it! My own mother wrote it to me!" My voice cracked and I swallowed the lump in my throat and whispered, "I trusted you."
She covered her mouth and I heard Nick running up the stairs. I was staring at Alesha, heartbroken and the most confused I'd ever been, when Nick came in panting. "I heard yelling! What's going—" he scanned the room, seeing the necklace, open box, and Alesha's tear-stained face. "Oh no. No no no."
"What is going on?" I begged him. He looked at Alesha and she nodded shakily. Alesha took a deep breath and started. "We adopted you when you were very little. Just a...a baby. There was only one thing from your biological family—the letter. We planned to give it to you when you were old enough.
"But a couple days after we brought you home...a man came. He had the darkest eyes. Black. His suit was black. His faces was shadowed, even when he was in direct light. He threatened us..."
Alesha's voice trailed off and her body was racked with shaking sobs. Nick put his arm around her and continued. "...he threatened us. Said that if we ever show you that letter, he would find us and—and 'dispose of us'. I'm sorry Fae! We believed him and he sounded so deadly serious. We hid it away. Forgot about it. He left right after he said that...horrible thing...we never saw him again."
I curled my hand into a fist and sneakily shoved the necklace in my sweatshirt pocket. I walked over to Alesha and enveloped her in a hug.
The three of us stood there, hugging and supporting each other for awhile. Until Alesha realized she was going to burn dinner. She hurried off and Nick went to his study to do paperwork or something.
I stood in the doorway and took one step out when I heard the crunch of paper under my shoe. Alesha had dropped the letter during her story. I looked down the hall—no one was coming. I swiftly picked it up and stuffed it in my pocket with the still-warm necklace.
They tried to forget about it, and they did for awhile, but what if I can't? It will stay with me until I read it. And if I do, the man in the suit might come dispose of me.
That would make two people out to kill me.
Fun.
Hi! Ohmygoodness I'm so sorry I haven't updated recently! Honestly I've been just insanely busy with different things in my life and on top of that, preparing a funeral. It was really beautiful though. To celebrate 14 votes I wanted to shout out my first ever voter: @fantasiarium and my first follower: LavenderScarletHeart
So go check them out! And remember to vote and comment! Thank you for the 60 views! Have a good rest of your day/night!
—Grace