Escaping Lights - A Greyson Chance Fan Fiction

Chapter 11: Dakota

On Tuesday afternoon, I was surprised to receive a call from my mother.

     So they finally remembered me.

     "Hello," I picked up.

     "Sweetheart!" she cried. "Where are you?"

     "Mom. No, where are you?"

     "We're at home. Seth told us you went to New York. What are you doing there? We're getting you!"

     Seth told them? Traitor.

     But there was nothing I could do about it anyway. "I'm fine. Don't panic, don't come for me, and don't ask."

     "How can I be so sure that you're safe?" she asked desperately.

     "I am, trust me. I swear to God," I assured her. "Carrie can stay here for a month on her own." Carrie was my mom's cousin's two-year-old baby, and she liked to move around, that one time, she almost fell on a flight of stairs because she knew how to open her crib and climb out there. She also once disappeared for an hour only to find her on the basement, where she almost set their house on fire. But enough about her.

     My mother sighed what I assumed was relief.

     "I know everything," I told her.

     "You don't know the truth, darling."

     "Actually, I do. I'm not your real daughter. I'm sorry," I mused.

     "Nothing is ever your fault. We can tell you everything. I'm asking you to come home to us, Phoebe. Running away is not the answer. She's nowhere to be found." My mom's voice was soft and for a moment, I felt guilty because I probably made her cry.

     "Nobody said I was looking for my real mother. And I'm not trying to, Mom. I know she's gone," I replied. "I just took off because I–I wanted to..."

     "What do you want?" she asked gently.

     "I want you to tell me why you never said that I was adopted," the words came out heavily. 

      She was quiet for a few seconds.

     "I think that's quite obvious, darling. We didn't want you to feel incomplete. If you knew that you weren't our child, you would feel inferior and you would long for your real parents. We didn't want you to distance yourself from us, just like what you are doing now," she explained with an occasional sniff. I'm really sorry, Mom.

     "I know that what I did was stupid, but I'm already here and I'm not retreating. I'm a monster and I'm a coward for fleeing, and I admit that it's wrong to go. But for once, I want you to listen to me."

     "We have been listening," she said.

     "No, you haven't. You don't even know how much I hated those piano lessons, do you?" I did loathe my lessons. I never had a choice because all my life, my parents wanted me to pursue this dream of theirs. And I never got the chance to tell them because I was too afraid. They always told me how they wanted to have a musical prodigy for a child. Seth, on the other hand, was brave enough to tell them that he utterly despised his violin lessons when he was nine, so he failed on that mission. I, meanwhile, held a huge amount of respect for my parents and my desire to not disappoint them was strong enough to endure Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, and all those musical geniuses. Besides, I should consider myself blessed. Some people longed to learn how to play instruments, and I was gifted with a free opportunity.

     "You do? Why didn't you say so?" She sounded exasperated.

     "I wanted to tell you years ago, but the idea of me being musical like you always seemed to have excited you. I didn't wanna burst your bubble. Plus, you never had the time for me to listen to my stories. I kept thinking that you loved your career more than you loved us," I told her in the most amiable tone I could muster.