Black Ice

Chapter Three

"Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself. They came through you, but not from you, and though they are with you, they do not belong to you."

~Khalil Gibran

*****

Despite Mum's insistences, I stay in the hospital overnight. One day, gone. I am grateful, however, for the time alone I have to ponder. I've never been one for great philosophical soliloquies, but do I have a choice at this point? 

I have to find my father. My real father. I know this now. Maybe I always knew that I would need to meet him someday, but I never really considered the prospect in depth because I thought I'd have my whole life ahead of me to build a family of my own and repair my relationships with my own family. 

I love my family. I do. But they're all terrible people. 

My father is a businessman. He married my mother when she was 18 and he was 34. He's all about the image, my father. That's why he adopted me. Good publicity. How do I know this? Because why would someone bother to adopt you and then never say a word to you? I rarely see my father. He's cold and distant, and I'm lucky if I can get a word in edgewise in his presence without being interrupted by something or someone more important. 

Mum is a different story. She pretends to listen to me to make herself feel like a better mother, but in reality, she hardly knows me. In some ways, I prefer my father's method - at least he's honest. Mum is still fairly young, and she gets her kicks by sneaking out to night clubs with 'business associates'  while my father is away on his trips, which is almost always. 

I can't count on either of my parents. My father never listens, and my mother hears only what she wants to hear. So I've learned not to say anything at all in their presence. 

My only salvation are my siblings. Bethany is eight, and utterly adorable. She learned from a young age that our parents are not dependable, and I've been looking after her ever since. I'm her replacement mother, something I never truly got. Bethany was adopted from England, but our youngest brother Ben, who is only three, is the biological son of our parents. He's a little cherub, with my mother's curly blonde hair. She to get him out for brunch parties with her high society friends who coo over him, then give him back to the nanny. 

How can I do this to them? How can I leave them to live with our parents without me? Unprotected? My mission in life is to preserve Bethany and Ben's innocence. If I'm dead, I can't do that. 

My mouth is dry. I know I should just ring for the nurse, but I need a break from these four walls. I stand up shakily and grab the empty glass from my bedside before staggering into the hallway. 

Almost immediately, I bump into an old man in a wheelchair and fall on my butt. 

"Holy-" He yelps. 

"Sorry," I groan, rubbing my bruised tailbone. 

"Not a problem, miss. You alright?" He reaches out and takes my hand to help me to my feet, and a cold chill runs through me. I can tell he feels it too, because his friendly smile falters. 

"I'm fine," I whisper, alarmed. 

He frowns. "Are you?" 

"Yes...if you'll excuse me..." I back away and push the doors to my room open again. Did that really just happen? 

I know that feeling. I don't know how I know it, but I do.

That man is dying.

And he knows that I am, too.

*****

AN: Special thanks to: 

shatterthoughts

GreenSunflowers

For being amazing readers! 

This chapter was quite short, and I'm sorry, but I needed to incorporate the old man into the story...he will return. I will update again SUPER soon. Please comment below and let me know what you think so far. Luv!

-HopelessByComparison