Serenity.

T W O • N o b l e s t R e p l i e s.

No feelings. I felt nothing.

As I walked out of the court with a man that claimed to be my father I felt nothing.

As we climbed into his stupid jeep, I still felt nothing. Nada. Zilch.

But when he started to apologize for 'missing my childhood' that's when I began to feel something, and that something was a whole lot of anger.

I didn't even acknowledge his existence. I simply shifted my bum uncomfortably against the leather seats and stared out of the tinted windows.

I was far too angry to even dwell on the fact that I was riding in a car that was worth more than my life.

Fortunately, this was real life so no, he did not give me some stupid insignificant reason as to why he was not present during my entire life. I think he could sense the anger radiating from my body.

We sat in complete silence although he did try to make conversation, on which I reacted by simply pulling out my very cheap earphones and plugging them into my ears, although they were not working it prevented him from trying to communicate any further.

We drove for around two hours and as the car zoomed past the attention seeking lights and occasionally waving trees, I started falling asleep. My eyes would slowly shut down only for me to shoot up the next moment trying not to surrender to the kidnapping which was attempting to occur between me and sleep.

Eventually I stopped protesting against my body and I finally let the suppressed tiredness I had been feeling consume me.

That was probably the best sleep I had experienced since my mum died last week. Ever since that night my body seemed to have become accustomed to not sleeping at night but then dosing off during the day. I would toss and turn and toss and turn until eventually, I would just stop trying and I would lay motionless against the shaggy duvet cover. So it came as a surprise to me when I actually had a good sleep in a car rather than my own bed. How damaged must a person be to be unable to fall asleep in the comfort of their own bed, but when it comes to dosing off in a strangers car, their eyes are shut.

Relatively damaged.

The first thing I noticed as I rapidly blinked to adjust to the beaming glow abandoned by the sun, was the pain. It was shooting up my neck in a very fast motion scurrying up and down, up and down.

My body was tense.

I came to notice something, my body was tense. This was caused due to the large hand that was patting the surface of my arm. His hands felt like a hard, soft touch. It was like the type of hand that would be a great asset at a time of comfort, but then the type of hand that would intimidate someone when necessary. The shadow of a scar was pressed into my arm, not deep just there. I shook the hand off as if it was contaminated with supernatural diseases. No touching. I wanted no physical encounters with my sperm donor as I've decided to refer to him as.

He deserves not the title that was placed upon him on the day of my arrival, he deserves nothing but a simple dismissal. I vaguely ignored the hurt look on his face and clumsily climbed out of the car changing my posture so my body would not touch his. I walked until my footsteps stopped in front of the house. It was massive. To someone who was familiar with the riches of life it may have appeared to have been maybe of average size but to someone who has only experienced the downsides to life it was massive.

There was a time where I lived in a house that had room for people to breathe in. I almost remember the colour of the walls, a baby purple it was, or maybe it was a baby blue? I'm not sure.