Out Of My League (Under Revision) (Book 1)

Chapter Thirteen

"Well, this is a plot twist." Colton murmured.

I glared at him in response.

"What?" He put his hands up in surrender. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

"My mood isn't lightened up, Colton." I said.

"Well, maybe you just need a certain someone t-"

"No." He pouted. Although it looked adorable - Did I really just think that? - I was still pissed at this newly discovered information.

"I think we should go back." I said getting up from the floor and walking my way back towards the Grey residence, gripping the folder of papers tightly.

"You're taking them with you?" Colton asked following.

"Of course. I'm not leaving behind information that concerns me." I said.

"But it was meant to be kept a secret."

I whipped around. "I should at least have a right to know. If they're not my biological parents, then who is?" I said.

"I don't know."

"Exactly." I was in a bad mood and I didn't care if I was bitchy. Just imagine if your "parents" weren't your actual parents but instead of telling you the truth, they most likely planned on keeping it from you your whole life. Knowing mine, they probably would've.

The walk was silent and tense.

Maybe an hour had passed when I was sat down on the roof with my guitar.

I gently strummed the strings just playing random rhythms and beats to help soothe me.

I kept thinking.

Why am I adopted? Could my parents not afford to care for me or did they simply just not want me? The latter wasn't hard to believe for me.

As I played the guitar, my hands unconsciously landed on my wrists. You know those moments when you blank out into your thoughts and stare at nothing, important or unimportant? That's what happened.

As I stared at my scarred wrists, memories rushed back to my head.

My brother left for college just last year when I was a sophomore which means he's now on his second year of college.

I was hit with memories as I looked at my scars as I remembered how he would yell at me to get out the house when one of his booty calls showed up and most of the time, he was drunk; Just flat out wasted.

"Elliana! Get out of this damn house! Guests will be here in a few minutes!"

During that time, I knew what "guests" were and I still do but I just don't live with it.

He would come home wasted or high out of his mind. He would smell like alcohol or some kind of narcotic not to mention the familiar smell of cigarettes.

I always wondered what happened to the sweet brother I grew up with. Not the one who didn't give a shit about me because he was too selfish to care for anybody else.

I cried because I wanted the old brother I had and I always thought 'What kind of people did my brother get involved with?'.

My parents started to put more focus into their work after my brother left for college. It wasn't even far away seeing as he studied at UCLA. I still want to know how he got accepted into that school. But although he wasn't that far, he never came home to visit. He made up excuses about how he had trips for the school and how he had to "hit the books" but I knew that was just code for "tapping that ass".