The waiting place

Chapter ten: Giving in to this nightmare

Waking up, I sighed. I felt like screaming, giving up, giving in to this nightmare. I was still in my room - with my "mother's" face towering over me. I will never accept her as my mother, I refuse to. That woman, that thing has taught me nothing! I have learned everything on my own and that is the way I like it... that is the way it's always been. It wasn't about to change for her. I was about to tell her where she could go stick it when an elderly man walked into the room. He stopped when he saw me, it even seemed as though he stopped breathing for a second. Swiftly, he collected himself.

"So, this is her? This is our Malaya?" He asked, hope glistening in his eyes. His eyes, well for lack of a better word, were grey; you could use that one-word description, but you wouldn't do him justice. I was struck by their coldness, like a stab of ice. Every detail in his iris so clear, so concise. For my lack of words, he was a piece of art nobody could understand, leaving everyone who stared confused, unable to comprehend him. It was the grey, that flash of metal hitting the rays of the sun. It was like a hatch had opened in his eyes and the colour had fallen out, leaving his eyes to look like the dazzling and breath-taking snow, or the dazzling diamond. It was the type of grey that women wished would grow out of the top of their heads. They were so softly grey they might as well have been pencil drawn. But like I said, I couldn't do him justice. I mean, how could you do justice to a masterpiece?

"This is her, Joe." That woman replied, I still refuse to label her my mother. Tears began to stream down his face quicker than he could blink. He was crying... for me? I couldn't believe it; I was always taught that crying was a dreadful and wicked thing and that we must not do it. Yet here I am, a fully-grown man standing in front of me crying because of me! This is madness! Complete and utter madness! Yet, I found myself feeling sorry for him. This confused me as I have only ever felt sorry for myself. But, to be honest, I was the only person I knew who needed to be felt sorry for. And I was also the only person who did feel sorry for me. No-one else cared. No-one has ever cared...

"Malaya, this is my husband, Joe. He is your father." She told me. I could not believe it, my father, right here in front of me. Oh, I had a few good things to say to him!