Fixing Me ∞ Hood

Chapter 63 - Box

"So, what's in it?"

"I don't know, Michael." I sigh, staring down at the box now sitting on the table.

"Are you going to open it?" He pesters.

"I don't know." I sigh again.

"Jordan," Calum places his hand on my knee gently. "You know you're going to have to open it at some point."

"I know."

"It's been a week..." He adds.

"I know."

"Don't you want answers?" Luke asks.

"I feel like it'll give me more questions than answers."

"Or it could give you some answers." Ashton insists.

I lean my forearms on my knees and sigh, my eyes trained on the plain brown box sitting in front of me. "After ten years I don't think I want any answers. I've only just come to terms with not knowing anything."

"Your mum left it for you for a reason. Don't you at least owe it to her to find out what she left you?" Calum asks gently.

With every sentence the boys utter, with every hour that passes every day, my resolve slowly dissolves. I've tried to convince myself that I don't want answers, but I've realised that the only reason why I'm doing so is because I'm scared of knowing the truth. If my father isn't the man that I thought he was, what does that mean for the rest of my family?

It has been a week since Rosa gave me this box, and all I've done it stare at it. I need to know what's in there. I need some answers, even if it'll give me more questions than answers.

"You're right." I sigh.

"Do you want us to leave?" Calum slides his arm around my shoulders.

"No, stay. You guys deserve this almost as much as I do, there's no point in keeping anything from you."

The boys nod and settle themselves, resting their elbows on their knees and heads in their hands, looking like dogs about to receive bones to chew on. I sit forward, on the edge of the lounge, and run my fingertips over the course cardboard.

A million thoughts run through my head even though the only thing I can see is plain, brown cardboard. What if the answers aren't what I want to hear? What if everything was just a lie? What could my mum possibly want to keep from me until I was ready or old enough?

As I suck in a breath I pull the lid off the box, dust floating off the top from the pressure of the air inside the box. The boys try to peak over into the box without being too conspicuous, but I quickly lean forward even more to block their view and peer inside the box.

For the size of the box, there isn't much in there. But as I've learned time after time, it's about quality and not quantity.

This box would have to be at least nearly ten years old, which is strange because everything seems to be in pristine condition. A clean white envelope, not yellowed with age sits on top of everything. Neat, cursive writing reading 'Jordan' stares up at me, provoking a slightly unwanted nostalgic feeling of watching my mum write school absence notes for my older brother and sister.

The white envelope is smooth beneath my fingers as I reach inside and pull it out. I sit back against the lounge, the boys following my moves, and flip the envelope open, pulling out the folded piece of paper inside. I place my thumb underneath the first flap but I don't open it. I can't. Yes, I want answers, but my mum actually wrote this to me. There was obviously something that she wanted to tell me, and something that she needs me to know now. I'm worried about what that is.