PLEASE DON'T BE A SILENT READER!
AZALEA'S POV:
EMOTIONS SWARM in my eyes yet I let none slip onto my facial expression. I'm sat on the hospital bed, facing my 5 visibly distressed brothers. I haven't answered any of their questions and I'd decided I wouldn't give them any reaction. Only Elliott wasn't that surprised because he knew I was alright before, but for the others, I was crying a lot..
Giovanni is also back. He's standing in a dark corner, observing me.
It sends chills down my spine.
"Azalea," My eyes flit to Elijah. "are you okay..? Last time we left you were.. upset."
I subtly nod, lowering my head once again and lightly dragging the towel through my damp hair.
You may think I feel petty for doing this, selfish even. No, I don't feel that and there is a.. valid reason I'm doing this― ignoring them. I do, however, feel slight satisfaction from someone so desperate for answers like I once was.. but that's besides the point.
I'm ignoring them because I need answers from myself and I'm almost― glitching at this moment. I must be having a serious mental battle with my emotions and opportunities right now― I've been asking myself if I should accept my brothers, then a million different scenarios and possibilities pop up instead of an actual answer and it always just seems to leave me completely perplexed and clueless as to what to do. And somehow, these endings always somehow manage to leave me feeling closer to them than I ever will or way more distant than I have ever been.
A sudden wave of clear frustration surges through Nicholas.
"What are you thinking so so deeply of!?" He nearly shouts. What's wrong with him?
I flinch slightly, taken aback by the sudden outburst.
"A lot," I respond quietly. Simple and truthful.
"Mind telling us?" He asks, expectantly.
"I mind." My tone is blunt and serious. I do mind telling him what I'm thinking about, therefore, nothing will be spilt.
He groans and rolls his eyes, stomping off somewhere else in the room.
Back onto the topic of.. acceptance, chances.. I've only just realized I barely know anyone here. I don't know what they're like, I don't know what they've been through..
But they know― everything about me.
e v e r y t h i n g
―about me.
And I know nothing about them.
Whether it's from information that's been recorded on my records, or me telling them. They've now managed to figure every single thing about me in the past 3 months.
And to them, I'm their long lost sister who they'd been looking so desperately for, who they lost at such a young age.
Who they would give up everything for.
And to me, I only think they're my brothers― that's what I've been told. And I just.. accepted it. I never once questioned it, them reciting memories so precisely at the dinner table about me and the shivers of uneasiness I'd feel crawling up my spine because they knew me before. They have full memories of it, ones they could describe every little detail about because they stored those memories.
But all I had was blurry haze of distorted faces I never recognized, faces that'd occur close to never. Faces that were blurred, smudges, disorientated. Faces that'd make my head hurt if I tried to recall where the memories were spawning from, to a point I stopped trying and assumed they were just some random people that seemed to stick out to me.
Only now do I recognize that there is no physical proof that I am actually related to them. Besides from our nearly identical dark, silky, brunette hair and our oddly similar facial features, our eyes are different. So different. A gorgeous, vibrant emerald green that stands out from miles away, a deep blue, so deep and meaningful it'd camouflage with the endless blue ocean. Such distinct differences, so very obvious.
There is absolutely no written or shown evidence that I am blood related to the Lauriers, yet I accept it and move on. I was given away to them, willingly. There were no further questions asked, and when I asked about it, I was told they were sure then silenced by a qualified social worker. My biologicals have baby photos of me around their mansion, but how do I know that they didn't kidnap me too? For all I know, my 'kidnappers' could be my real parents and they could be my kidnappers. That could explain why I feel such a strong motherly connection to Mary.
The theories hurt my head. I take slow, controlled breaths. The room is silent, or not. I feel like I'm drowning again. Everything is so incredibly complicated.
I don't feel my lips move, they feel frozen in place.
I feel everything still.
I feel 5 pair of eyes monitoring me closely.
I feel scared.
Who are these people?
I don't feel the words come out my mouth, yet they do.
"I want a DNA test."
"I want a DNA test."
As soon as they hear the words, the room is drowned with a wave of complete silence.
The Lauriers' breaths are heavy and fast.
She sits there, unmoving, silent, fearful of what's to come.
Anxiety upon anxiety, it stacks up and builds a big tower.
Azalea stares, overflowing with emotions.
The brothers stare back, still.
I watch as my brothers' bodies go rigid. I notice mine doesn't. It doesn't because I had been expecting... something similar to this.
The room settles with underlying tension and silence.
It's quite a surprise, I'd known she'd say something, but I wasn't entirely expecting that.
Azalea. Over the past 3 months we'd all been reunited, I'd notice patterns in her behavior. It's my job to observe and notice anyway. That's besides the point, anyway. Whenever she was upset with something, she'd normally zone out and get startled easily. Happy? She'd temporarily let her tall walls down. Neutral? Silent but observant. Thinking deeply about something? Normally no emotions displayed on her face but the emotion in her eyes would tell you if it's positive or not.
But this time, she had a mix of fear, happiness and sadness. She had been ignoring everyone who asked her questions and had her eyes fixated on the marble ground. I could barely tell what was going on in her mind, and it's unbearable. Like that time at dinner, Elijah and Azalea kept stealing glances at each other. Elijah kept giving her knowing looks and it seemed to anger her and upset her even more. I'm a Mafia leader, I'm supposed to be able to read people really easily.
She stares up at us, waiting for a reaction, impatiently.
They're all frozen in shock.
"You want a―," Nicholas slowly repeats in disbelief.
She tenses.
"―a DNA.. test?" Aidan finishes off.
A few seconds pass, she lowers her head and her head makes a slight bobbing movement. So subtle I'd nearly missed it.
"Why? I mean― why now?" The stupid words come out of Elijah's mouth
It makes complete sense as to why she'd want proof that we're actually related, after all, we did.. threaten the police station― so she was practically given away.
"Well.. I don't really―uh― know you guys?" Her voice is small and timid.
"What do you mean? We're literally your brothers, Azalea," Elliott deadpans, confused. Them two spend the most time together, Azalea probably isn't talking about him.
"I don't mean you, you tell me everything, Elliott," She smiles at him. "I mean the other 4 people that do so much so as live in the same roof as me. We barely interact.. therefore I know close to nothing about you all. You're all very closed off."
The realization hits us.
She knows basically nothing about us; we have so many documents that summarise her entire (outside) life, and she's told us what happened inside. We've told her nothing. Not even anything about her own mother and father.
She's just been given the information and forced to accept it.
"..so, without further proof, I don't know if you're really my brothers." A small smile forms on her face. She patiently waits for a reaction or a response.
"This is bullshit Azalea, I mean― the resemblance is there!" Nicholas' harsh tone receives a flinch from Azalea, then a frown. Guilt overtakes her.
"I'm sorry― I should've never suggested it," She whispers, shaking slightly.
I glare deeply at Nicholas and he backs down.
"We'll do the test, Azalea." My voice booms through the room.
The first thing I've said since I've been in this room.
All of their heads snap towards me. I bounce off the wall I was leaning on and stand straight.
"But―"
"It's final. We'll go to the clinic tomorrow." My tone holds authority, no room for objections.
Azalea's head raises and her eyes are full of hope. I'll make sure she gets her proof.
Ill prove it.
༄ ✯ ༄
Took a decent amount of time!
Until next time,
Violet