When Everything Changed (Currently Rewriting)

17. Her Fault, Your Fault, His Fault, My Fault

CHAPTER 17 | Her Fault, Your Fault, His Fault, My Fault

The rural fields vanished as the car sped through the highway.

My thoughts reverted to yesterday's shocking news. Sean was implacable. Tears streamed down his face after hearing such appalling news from his father. He made a swift decision and announced we will be heading to California the following day.

The sight of palm trees and sandy beaches came into view. The place is indeed beautiful if you don't mind the feverish weather. The car passed by an amusement park. I took a quick glimpse of the families trotting towards the entrance of the park. A thought struck me.

"Sean," I piped, "Who is my family?"

Sean remained silent. His hands clutched the stirring wheel, his knuckles turning white.

"Sean, do you hear me?"

"I'm sorry," he says. "What did you say?"

"Who is my family?" I asked, my teeth gritted. My hands wrestled each other on my lap as I stared intently at him. Somehow, he was trying to avoid my question. Silence filled up the atmosphere for who knows how long.

My hands flung to his arm, shaking it. "Will you answer me? Who is my family?"

The car swerved left and right with my sudden actions. Sean pushed me away from him – a little too harsh. My back hit the car door as Sean regained control of the vehicle. Feeling dazed, I sat properly in my seat and stared out the window.

"I'm sorry, Angeli," Sean starts. He reaches his hand to touch me, but I flinched under his touch.

"Don't you dare touch me," I say, with a disgusted countenance. "What's wrong with answering a simple question? Is there something you don't want to tell me?"

"The truth hurts," he replies, "If you want, then you'll hear it."

"Your parents – they were divorced since you and your brother were toddlers. Your father was said to have left your mom for a mistress. He moved to New York and became an instant millionaire. He hadn't bother to acknowledge you or your brother with inheritance or at least love.

"Your mom was left to fend for her two children. One day, a gruesome event happened. With the sound of a stranger in one of the rooms of your former house, your mother left her room at night to check it out. She discovered a masked man stealing jewelry hidden in a storage room. She let out a scream and attempted to run out of the house to call for help. Before she made it out of the door, a gunshot rang through the living room; a puddle of blood stained the ground.

"Your brother witnessed the murder of your mother. He tried to run out the back door in order to call for help, but he too was shot dead. Fortunately, you were at my house for a play date. When we were to drop you over, your house was completely surrounded by police officers investigating the crime scene. With you left as an orphan, my parents adopted you. You were traumatized for a few years. You never forgot about it – that is until now."

This felt entirely wrong. His story seemed believable, but my instincts say otherwise.

"What happened to the man who killed what's left of my immediate family?" Tears ran as rivulets down my flushed cheeks. The story of how my family collapsed like a domino effect wasn't what triggered such an overwhelming feeling. Not knowing what actually happened is difficult.

"He hasn't been caught. He fled before the police arrived."

I stared out the window, not wanting to hear any spurious stories.