“What do you mean it concerns me and my father?” Justin asked slowly, his brown eyes searching my own for the answer.
Minutes and seconds seem to tick by and none of us moved or made any motion of any sort, almost daring each other to make the first move. Inhaling deeply I couldn’t help but feel the slither of regret that had begin to nag at me slowly, almost threatening to choke me free of all words. I was defenceless against that and briefly I began to wonder if I had been too hasty in the whole matter. A door opened downstairs and we both looked towards the source of the sound but made no move towards it. When he turned back I could feel his penetrating gaze and I felt kinda transparent. The longer he stared, the more I began to regret every single word I had said earlier.
Should I have waited?
The thought rang through my mind as I done anything to avoid his eyes. Biting my lip nervously I tried to ignore the little voice inside my head- should I have said anything at all? My feet remained planted on the ground and I didn’t say anything for a bit, instead choosing to look at the marble staircase. The chandelier had caused bright beams of light to shatter off the black marble, illuminating all the cream walls near-by.
From the corner of my eye I see Justin move just the slightest millimetre but that was all it took for me to dart backwards toward my bedroom door in a suddenness that scared even myself. Why am I acting like I’m scared of him I thought with disgust, immediately gaining my rigid posture. He is not something I should worry about; after all what is he going to do to me?
“Megan?” his voice whispered, noticeably closer now than it had been before.
I shook my head, allowing my dark brown tendrils to cover my face as he stepped closer and closer, shortening what little distance there was between me. Out of the blue I felt the first signs of hyperventilation. My heartbeat began to pick up and thudded hard against my chest as if trying to break out of the rib cage. My throat felt dryer and dryer as he continued to close the distance and to be truly honest, I couldn’t take it. That little space I had created between us was disappearing, much like the control I had tried so hard to gain not just over these few weeks but for years. At first, I saw this as something completely unique to me, a key to their operation that would fail without me but now… it’s the ongoing nightmare that I cannot wake up from.
My whole body is this emotional time bomb that goes off repeatedly, no matter how much I try to train myself to get a grip. I miss my parents with such a burning desire that I genuinely fear my sanity. It’s different when you’ve never met your parents once in your life- that sort of ‘miss’ is a longing curiosity that wants to be fed- you’re only intrigued.
But when you have known your parents for the past 17 years that’s a different story all together; I long endlessly for our stupid little board games that would always bring out the competitiveness in me. I long for the sweet hold of my mum and her scent so much like vanilla and orchid. I want my dad’s little motivational outbursts that always made me carry on with acting, no matter how many times I just felt like quitting altogether.
I want my parents back.
My heart yearns for them and the fact that that stupid little fraud is prancing around probably not even caring about my feelings or my own needs makes my blood boil. My hands begin to shake and I can’t stay still for the need to kill that ginger cow is so strong. Words can no longer describe the complete detest I feel for her.
Only then did I remember Justin, so close now than ever, waiting for my response whilst I had dazed out on my internal predicament.
“Megan” he pleaded, his tall frame towering above my own. I closed my eyes, guilt dominating every other feeling in my body. I’m just a big fat liar, so caught up in my web of lies that I can’t even find my out any more- the actual truth is so hazy but the lies… clear and stark against anything honest in this whole situation.
YOU ARE READING
Stolen Identity
Mistério / Suspense'You'd like to think you are sure of yourself. You know who you are, what you like, your interests and your dislikes. Your identity is more than just what it says it is. It's your token to life and acceptance in some cases. And then that's taken awa...
