Dancing In His Storm [BxB] √

23.7: The Storm

AMBROSE

I tightened my grasp on the hand grip and stepped on the pedal as hard as I possibly could. The brush of the chilly morning breeze went from being gentle to a really strong gust. I'm not running late but I was speeding as if I was trying to catch something on the run. The noise that the engine made was rudely thunderous that you can hear it from a mile away. I was not thinking about the houses lined along the way that I might disturb but I'm just driving like fast and quiet seriously, furious. Perhaps I'm trying to release something inside of me by stepping on the gas as if I'm a contender at a random racing competition. Perhaps the emotion bottled up inside of me was so overwhelming that I have to release some in order to make space for a new one.

I wasn't expecting to have that conversation with my dad and for a moment, I was just keeping all of the emotions inside of me. The longer I know that I'm just adopted, the more the pain sticks it's pins and needles inside my heart. I can feel the wounds on my knuckle stretch up the more that I tightened my grip on the handle. Thankfully, I covered it with bandage so the fresh blood doesn't rush.

The ride was unsurprisingly quick and I reached the Mary Height's bridge in just a matter of minutes. That's how fast I covered the way. I wasn't rushing to arrive at school when I know I have some drama there too, but I wasn't just on the right headspace to think right or even care about the people around me. I stopped in the middle of the bridge and there was this thought of me not wanting to enter school again. It seems like there are two characters inside my head and they were fighting it out. At this point, the one who wants me to not enter school have the upper hand. It was trying its best to convince me that I need to have a break from all of this. A whole day if possible.

I lifted the shield from my helmet giving me a nice and clear panoramic view of the Mary Height's river. My head was in deep contemplation once again, basically recalling what happened at home.

I wasn't ready to talk to my dad earlier but I'm glad that I let him speak. There must be a whole reason as to why that happened when I don't even want it to happen. I'm perfectly aware of the blatant truth that the only chance I have to know about everything was that one moment. In a way I was willing to let it go. I'm quite shocked that my dad's still here and for the third day when he usually just stay for a day or two. Maybe fate really wanted him to stay and spill everything that I ought to know.

My dad did not hold back and he basically told me a lot of things that I needed to hear. I'm sure he has a lot of things to spill to me but him choosing to answer that phone call from work was just as disrespectful to the seriousness of the conversation. It just gave me this knowledge that my dad's priority was his work and quite honestly, that's probably one of the main reason why this family's broken. I believe, to the best of my better judgment that leaving home without letting my dad know about it was rude but it was just as disrespectful as his actions. It was just equal for the both of us. It might probably a win win situation. If he had chosen to ignore that call and continue the conversation with me, then I'm probably still glued at my seat while listening to his stories. There might be some other things that might take me by surprise. I might even breakdown in front of him. Who knows if my dad would even break down right in front of me. His voice was already cracking up when he was telling the story and if he was given more time, I think he'd cry. It might be a gut punch to his pride but I don't even give a fuck about his pride.

It was wild to know that I was only adopted because they thought I could be the solution to how life had fucked them over. For instance, my mother's yearning for a child and I was supposed to be that child that would bring her the joy and fulfillment of motherhood. She really wanted a child but she cannot bear one anymore and it's worthy to note that I'm Frederick's substitute. They really thought I could replace a lost soul but clearly, it did not work in the long run. My mom might've treated and loved me like her own child when I was still a baby but that changed gradually as the pain from losing her biological son came back to haunt her. I don't understand the psychology behind my mom losing her sanity and better judgment over this tragedy but I'm pretty sure that's not her entire fault. However, I do think it's unfair for my part that even if she did not call for her trauma to strike back, I was the one responsible for her healing.

That's it. Healing was the key word. Healing was the reason why I have to live this life with unsolicited misery. Healing was the reason why I have to go through all of this agony and rage and everything in between. I felt like a medicinal pill that was only adopted in order to heal whatever's there to be healed. My dad's failing relationship with my mom. My mom's pain for losing her only child, Frederick. And just restoring the family in general.

I did not want to be adopted in the first place. I did not choose any of this to happen in my life. This thing called life has really fucked me up more times than I could ever think of and I can't imagine life doing this over and over and over until there's nothing left of me. I know I don't have any control over what happened when I was a baby but now that I've grown, I almost want to take control of everything. This was probably my chance to rewrite my life, perhaps create a new path and redirect my fate. I stood watching the flowing water under the bridge as my mind began to draft something.

Delilah Flores. That was my real mother's name. I recalled everything that my father said. I'm Delilah Flores's last child. It dawned upon me that my parents lessened my real mother's problem by adopting me. I don't know how much they paid her and all of that but I hate them for taking me away. I'm beginning to think that my life would probably be better if I wasn't adopted. I might be struggling but at least I know that I have loving mother in Delilah Flores.

I hopped back on my motorcycle and began driving towards school. There were students flooding on their way inside school and I suddenly felt scared of entering school. I know I don't want to go to school today but why did I even drove all the way here when I could've easily turned my back while I was at the bridge.

I ended up turning my back and I would probably just go on a ride throughout the town for the rest of the day. If I fail, some of my subjects then so be it. Fuck this life anyway.

I was already driving downtown when I suddenly felt the urge to look for my real mother. I have the whole day for it anyway. I pulled over for a bit. I fished for my phone and began searching my real mother's name. Nothing was coming up just as I was expecting and even when I changed the spelling nothing's coming up.

This is going to be hard. I thought. My real mother's probably old by now and it's quite possible that she doesn't have any social media accounts.

I didn't know I already dialing my father's phone number until he picked up the phone.

"Hey son, what happened? You left without telling me." My dad opened up.

"Sorry about that. I'm going to be late for school so I just left." I lied. The words came out hard but I just had to lie. I'm pissed off that he chose work over me.

"I'm on my way back to Highmont. I left some money for you. Do you need anything else?" My dad spat and it sounded like money's the only thing that I need from him.

"I do." I paused for a few seconds. I took a deep breath before eventually speaking out the words. "I'm just intrigued. I really want to find Delilah." I spat keeping my statement short and precise.

"Your mother?" My dad asked.

"My real mother." I uttered clarifying it.

"Okay, it's your right to find your real mother." My dad began and I felt a short rush of relief that he's not trying to convince me not to find my real mother. "I don't know what's the exact address. It was several years ago and I don't know if they have moved to ome other place."

"That's disappointing." I trailed. My dad has point. They could've actually moved to some other place. I felt hopeless.

"But I'm sure your mother had the files back home." My dad followed up and it was just everything that I needed.

"Okay, thank you." I spat and I'm more than psyched to go back home and begin my search.

"Hey, son! Hey, wait."

"Yep?"

"I just want you to know that I never hated you. I've always loved you as my son and I know I have a lot of shortcomings. In fact, I really want to make up for everything that we lost. I'm still your father and I want to make things right." My dad's words seemed like a bass reverberating throughout my head.

I went quiet and I don't know if I'm going to believe his words or not. I was quite speechless and I just hanged up the phone call before I could even say something uncalled for.