Sweet Obsession (In Progress)

Chapter Four: Part One

A/N:

The picture is of Rosaline's kitchen.

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Haunted

"Monsters are real, ghosts are real too. They live inside of us, and sometimes, they win."

                                                                                   -Stephen King

Nothing was making sense anymore. Just when I felt like I had a handle on the situation, that memory had surfaced in my mind the other night. I finally opened up to Pailsey, hoping that, with her major being psychology, she could help me to put the pieces together. Needless to say, it was a short conversation.

Paisley believed that it was all just some kind of series of hallucinations and vivid dreams brought on by the fever or built up stress. Yet, despite what she said, I knew without a doubt that it was real. When I asked her about the probability of them being memories from my past, she informed me that memories can often be surpressed, but seeing as I was a mere infant when I was adopted, it was highly unlikely that I would even remeber that time in my life at all. I knew there was something more to it so I decided to go to the only people who might have the answers that I needed. My adoptive parents. 

I was currently sitting in my car infront of their small town house, debating whether or not to go through with this. In the end I chose to get out of the car and go inside, I needed answers to put my mind at ease. And I was convinced that once we had talked, they would assure me that all was fine, and send me on my way. 

I knocked on the door, waiting until my mom answered with a huge grin on her face. “Hi, honey! You're a bit early, but I have some BLT's underway in the kitchen if you want to help me finish them up," she said, pulling me into a warm hug. 

"Actually, mom, I really need to talk to you and dad. I have some questions..." I trailed off then, not looking forward to bringing up this touchy topic. My mom pulled back, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and nodded in understanding. 

"About your birth parents," she finished for me. Her green eyes crinckled at the corners as she fixed me with a concerned gaze. "Has something happened recently? Is everything okay?"

"Mom, everything is fine," I assured her, walking into the house and shrugging out of my jacket. "I've just been having these weird dreams and I think that it's because I've been struggling with where I come from. At least, subconsiously."

We enter the living room where my father is reclining on a faded leather couch, reading the sports section of the newspaper. He glances up when I move to sit down on a chair next to him offering him a small smile. "Hi, dad," I breathe, leaning back and kicking my legs up onto the chestnut coffee table in front of me.

"Hi, sweet pea. Rough day?" he inquired, folding up the paper and placing it next to him. He had always been good at reading me, so it came as no surprise that he could sense my inner termoil.

"Rough week," I correct. Right then, a small glass plate was placed on my lap by my mom. I hadn't even noticed that she had gone off to the kitchen at all.

"Rose has been having some recent... dreams," mom cut in, taking a seat next to my dad.

My father's demeanor instantly changed, becoming increasingly tense as he locked eyes with me. "Is it your night terrors? The panick attacks, are they back?" he questioned, voice strained with worry.

"No!" I quickly assured them. "I haven't had too many of those recently." It's true that I did experience night terrors that brought on panick attacks, but I never remembered what my nightmares were about. The night terrors were a large part of why it wasn't unusal for me to wake up several times a night. I hadn't had them since hearing his voice, the one that resonated with something burried inside of me.

“Do you know anything about my birth parents? I know it was a closed adoption, but I can't help but feel like if I don't even try to find out who I am, I'll never be able to move forward," I admitted, tears beginning to form in my eyes.

My mom took a deep breath, gave my dad's leg a pat, and then said, “We promise to tell you everying that we know. It isn't much, and it may not answer all of your questions, but I have high hopes that it will point you in the right direction." She paused, taking a moment to think.

“You were adopted, but the details of your adoption were different than that of any run-of-the-mill, closed adoption. I supose we should start from the begining for clarity.

“When we found out that I couldn't have children, we considered trying a surgate mother, but thought that it would be better to adopt and give a child without parents a place in our hearts and home," my mom started, a far away look in her eyes.  

“Which is when you got me," I added. This wasn't news to me, I knew all of this, and none of it was unusual or different, as they had said it was.

“Correct, but that isn't all of the story," she responded slowly.

“Go on," I urged, cautious and apprehensive.

“We had applied with numerous adoption agencies, but all of them turned us down due to our low funds. They thought that we were broke because they couldnt count the side jobs your father did for extra cash. We were beside ourselves with grief, thinking that it was the end of the road, when one night, we got a phone call from a woman.

“She said that she was a nun and that a she had heard of our unsuccessful attempts to bring a baby into our home. She also told us that she had a baby girl who needed a home urgently, but that the details of her adoption needed to be kept secret if we were to take her, and that we were to ask no questions. So we didn't. We just wanted a baby to love. We went and met with her outside of an old church the next night. That's how we got you," she finished.

I didn't know what to say. I was at a complete loss of words, unable to process this new information.

“We don't know who your parents were, there was no paper work to sign, just some documentation that had been made up to say that you were born to us by a midwife. It was odd that it had been done so quick, but it didnt matter too much to us because the whole thing was a mirical.

“We were told to keep your adoption quiet for the most part, and not to tell anyone where you came from. The whole thing was being done for your safety apparently. We are only telling you this now because we feel guilty and we want to help you. We love you, very much," my mom sobbed, leaning into my father's open arms. This is why I didn't want to talk about this. It was a hard topic for her.

“Rosaline was your orignal name, you know.  Your parents chose a beautiful name for you," my dad muttered, tears of his own shining in his eyes. I gave a curt nod.

“What about the nun? Surely she knows more, I could go and ask her," I inquired, hopeful that maybe there was something more to find out. I needed to know who I was. Maybe if I knew, if i found out the truth, I could stop lying to my adoptive parents about why I wanted to know. It wasn't so much because I felt incomplete, unable to progress, but because of those dreams. The dreams that I knew held truth, and that I knew tied into my past somehow.

“She was elderly, I doubt she is still alive, but perhaps someone there might know something," my mother said lowly, breaking me out of my thoughts. She picked up a piece of paper and a pen, and quickly scribbled something down. “The is the name of the church and the address. Her name was Sister Mary Angela."

I hurriedly took the card, scanning it with my eyes before standing to leave, sandwich in hand. It was only across town, not far to drive at all, and I would be damned if someone was going to stop me from heading there right this second.

“Thank you," I said, giving hugs and kisses to both of my parents. “I love you both so much. This won't change anything, I promise." I said that, but in truth, little did I know it would change everything.

“We know, sweet pea. Drive safe," my dad demanded.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Our gift for you should be arriving to your place sometime today. We got you a nice suitcase set for your trip with Paisley. She called and told us everything. Have fun, and happy birthday," my mom said giving me a hug before I headed to my car.

“Thanks! I love you!" I shouted over my shoulder. And then I was off, hoping to uncover something more about my past.

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