Everywhere I Turn {Completed}{Unedited}

08 | C H A P T E R

"Favorite color?"

"Yellow."

Isac sits up and looks down at me, "Yellow? That's new, never heard that before. Why yellow?"

It's been a week since I told Isac everything. In that week, we have grown closer, we spend a lot of time together. When things get bad enough that I usually take my box out, I call him instead. Today it was the start of spring break.

To start it off, we were in the park laying in the grass, looking up at the sky.

"Yellow is the color of a dandelion; my favorite plant. It may be classified as I weed, a horrible thing, but even with the bad name, it still is beautiful. It soon turns into the white flower that people make wishes with, blowing the  petals off, the seeds, causing it to float in the wind till the reach they ground again, growing a new yellow dandelion. Basically, even though it's is hated, a bad sign, it continues to flourish, helping people with their wishes."

Isac lays back down into his back, "Damn, that was deep."

I laugh, "My turn."

He nods as I sit up, getting serious, "I told you my story. What is yours?"

Isac closes his eyes.

"You don't have to answer, I shouldn't have aske-"

"I always wondered why I didn't look like my parents. My mom is a ginger, my dad is blond. There is obviously a difference there. They both have green eyes. I looked completely different. In school, we were learning about punnet squares; how people determine what their offspring will look like using their genes.

"There are two types of genes; dominant and recessive. The dominate genes overpower the recessive. The teacher was explaining that with two green eyes would result in green, both being recessive, and brown and green ones would result in brown eyes, brown being the dominant.

"That is how the argument between my teacher and I began. I have brown eyes and my parents both have green. I was arguing that his facts were wrong. That's when a kid in the class spoke up, saying I was adopted. That afternoon, I went home, asking my parents if I was adopted. The moment they tried changing the subject was when I knew the answer. I locked myself in my room, accusing them of lying to me.

"The following week, there was a note in my locker. When I opened it, it said that I was such a mistake that my real parents didn't even want me. Someone had spread around the fact I was adopted. As days past, it went from being rude to plain harrasment and bullying. You can say I snapped, locking my bedroom door to do the deed. One night, I forgot to lock my door. My mom came in just as I was in the middle of having the blade to my skin. I asked for help. I was put in rehab, now I'm here. Relocated."

His eyes only opened when I wrapped my arms around him, my head laying on his chest. I smiled as I felt his arms wrapped around me, holding me tight.

Everyone has their stories.

It takes one person to change it.

_______________________________________

A/N

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