Fever Dreams

Chapter 8: Who Am I?

~Ethan~

I guess I should explain something. When I was younger, I was very resistant to confrontation. This kid in third grade (I think his name was Declan; I remember because he had a really cool name) picked on me for the remainder of elementary school and most of middle school. I was basically his slave because I did everything he said just to keep him from hurting me. Sad, right?

There was also the constant shit from my mom, as you know. And around age fourteen, I guess I snapped. Like Declan's nose when I finally hit him. He was really a coward all along. Cried all the way to the nurse's office.

Anyway, now when I feel stressed or anxious or cornered, all those emotions channel into anger, which becomes violence. And when this happens...I guess you could say things sort of go black. I don't know why it happens, but I go ape-shit on someone and completely forget everything. It's crazy and scary.

Now that you have a feel for my issues, let's move on.

Family dinner. Doesn't seem too ominous, right? Well it should, and here's why:

I sat across from Kallie, Dad was next to me, and Mom was across from her trying her hardest not to look at me. Mom and I hadn't interacted since the incident two days ago. In fact, we haven't even looked at each other. And you know what, I think I preferred it that way. As soon as she looked at me, she burst into tears.

"Julia?" my dad asked.

"Mom, it's okay," I whispered.

"No!" she sobbed. "Look at your arm! I'm a horrible person! I'm so sorry Ethan!"

Dad's eyes widened. "You did that?"

"I wasn't thinking!" she squalled.

"Mom!" I tried.

She slammed her hand on the table. "STOP CALLING ME 'MOM!' I CAN'T TAKE IT!"

Kallie flinched, and ran away. No one really noticed that, though.

"Your own son," Dad growled.

She looked at him incredulously. "He's not even mine!"

He paled. "Julia, don't..."

"Shut it, Heath. It's time your son learns the truth. Ethan, your real mother is Kathy, your father's assistant. I claimed you as mine but..." She laughed bitterly. "Who were we kidding, Heath? He looks just like her!"

I guess that made sense. Mom has flaming red hair and a very short stature. In fact, I couldn't think of anything we shared appearance-wise except the color of our eyes. I'd never really noticed, but I have Kathy's nose, hair, skin tone, and tall, skinny build.

Still, I was shocked. I hadn't said a word for a long time; I know because "Mom" and Dad have been watching me expectantly for a while. It all made sense now. Her drunken confessions were bitter truths. All along, she'd been calling me ugly because I reminded her of my dad's affair. She hated me because I was evidence of my father's mistake.

I remember enough of my violent outburst to know I swiped most of the food off the table and slammed my chair against the wall. And now I'm running. I don't know where I am now or where I'm going. I don't even know why I'm out here; it's cold as hell tonight and I'm wearing a wife beater and basketball shorts. I'm not even wearing shoes, what the hell am I doing?

Silas had tried to warn me. He'd been right, but I was just too stubborn to listen. I was protecting the facsimile of a "mother." It was all a lie; my entire life was a sham. And the truth had been right there all along, shining like a flashlight in my eyes. How could I have been such an idiot?