Blood is thicker than water

Chapter 7

Adelina's POV:

Dinner was one of the best meals I've had in a while. There's something about a homecooked meal that's just different. 

June and Jack told me a lot about themselves while occasionally trying to get to know me. My answers were fairly short with no detail and they must have realized because eventually they stopped asking. 

They truly are wonderful people, their lives mostly revolve around family. That is something I've stopped believing in. The concept of a group of people never having a choice in seeing each other every day and instantly loving each other without thought was something that made less sense to me as I got older. 

The love I felt towards the people I called family was so real that I never had to question it, until I did. That love was so blind and deep down is somewhat present but I am fighting to keep my eyes open to the reality in front of me. They didn't come get us, not because they couldn't find us but because they didn't want to. 

One thing I remember about my blood family is the powerful aura that seemed to follow us everywhere. I was young but it was hard to miss. They had money and ressources. Whatever they wanted to know or get done would happen within the next hours or week. 

It wasn't odd to me. They called me a princess which in my small head meant they were the princes and king. So it made sense for everyone to help the royal family, at least it did in the books they read me. Thinking back to it now they were probably snobby stuck up assholes who had people at their beck and call. So tell me, is it wrong for me to assume they left me for the wolves?

As soon as I stopped believing in the importance of blood family the concept of chosen family was presented to me. To be able to sourround yourself with people who love you for you and can leave if they don't. 

Finding my chosen family was one of the best things to ever happen to me. We were all fucked up in our own way. We had all been through some shit and were all closer because of it.

Phoenix's dad left when she was six years old. It hurt her bad and I don't think she ever recovered. I remember going to her house for dinner since I couldn't have any at my own and ended spending the night a few times. 

Her mom was amazing, but that didn't distract from the pain caused by another. We would have these emotional 3am talks She would break down crying in my arms while I would do the same in hers moments later. She was my twin flame, my sister. I don't even know if she's alive.

Alex is, rather was a foster kid. His parents died in an accident when he was younger. He didn't have any family in the country given his parents immigrated from Bolivia. So no one could take them in. 

His parents were great from what he told me. They gave Alexander an english name but called him Alejandro at home. He doesn't let anyone call him that anymore. After their death, he went through the system with his younger brother for several years. They bounced from place to place until they got split up. Nine year old Alex couldn't do anything to stop his 6 year old brother from being taken from him. 

In my opinion, this did largely contribute to Alex's obsession with his studies. He burried himself in work with the hope that if he studied hard or got good enough grades that he could make good money and get his brother back. He had a bright future while also letting loose with all of us.

William's family was really poor but very loving. He grew up with the concept that school wasn't very important and you only had to pass to eventually be able to go into trade. He didn't exactly pass all the time but he didn't put effort like Alex had. 

Will's whole life had been centered around the idea of surviving. His parents were always working to make ends meet and to be able to pay the bills. Because of this, Will had the same mindset. He's not the brightest bulb in the shed but works very hard.

I miss them. A lot. 

I hope they're not dead.

Right after the dinner I stumble back to my room wanting to be alone and not risk crying infront of them. I find the right room with little difficulty and hastily open the door and shut it just as fast once I'm inside. I decide to take a shower seeing as I feel gross. 

I choose new clothes to wear and go into the bathroom connected to the room making sure to bring towels. I lock the door and undress quickly, avoiding the mirror. As I step into the warm I feel my muscles relax slightly.

I lean my head back letting the water wet all of my hair.

Mom.

Oh my god mom.

"Your mother committed suicide in a hotel room somewhere two months ago"

His words echo through my head. No that's not like her. She wouldn't. He's lying, he knew that would hurt me. He was just trying to get to me. 

Thoughts race through my head at lightning speed, so fast that I'm barely able to grasp onto one alone. Yet, the pain in my heart pays no mind to the violent debate of denial in my mind as tears start to flow freely across my cheeks.

Without noticing the sudden weakness in my legs my hand scowers the bare shower wall trying to find something to grasp. Not being able to find anything I press my back into the tile trying to stay standing. I give up fairly quickly as feeling leaves my legs and my back slowly glides down the uneven surface. 

The hot water hits my face as I reach the floor. My head tilts back against the wall as tears still rapidly escape my eyes and my knees retract to my chest. My fingers hold themsleves enclosing my ankles, keeping my fetal position. 

I start to draw ragged breaths, my hands start to tingle and increasingly violent sobs rack through my body. I hold my breath trying to muffle the sound of my cries and calm down my breathing with no success. The salty water mixes with the clean and washes away as though it was never there.

I sit there for what could be hours and try to understand. I think long about any part I could comprehend but that just leads to more unaswered questions.

I didn't know that would be my last goodbye, that the last hug she give me would be the last time I felt life from her cold fingertips. Was it planned? Did my unknowingness ease the worry behind her plastered smile?

My tears eventually run out and I'm left empty. I hurry the rest of my shower, desperate to leave it. I finally step out and wrap the towel I brought across myself. 

After drying myself I walk over to the countertop where I left my clothes. When I reach my clothes I take them into my hands glancing up from the wood where they were into my own reflection. Slowly the clothes slip out of my hand and land on the floor, only creating a small noise.

The purple handprint bruises around my hips and the red ones around my waist instantly catch my attention. I feel the familiar burn of tears prick my eyes but nothing comes of it. 

My eyes trail further downwards to the fingernail marks on my upper inner thighs. Shaking my head I try to divert my attention to getting dressed but eyes find their way to my upper body.

A small bruise is apparent on my collarbone and I wince at the memory of his lips. I then notice the yellow bruise on my upper arm from where I was dragged the other night. 

My hand reaches up to trace to scab on my cheek with memories flashing through my mind of that day. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them to find my own. 

Then I feel it, part of the emptiness that graced my moments ago slips away and goes numb slightly easing the pain.

I tightly shut my eyes letting out a breath and turn around, getting dressed and climbing into bed where I spent two hours sleeping and seven thinking some more.

Michael was right.

Everyone has left.

_____________________________________________

Hi!

I know it's quite a slow start but I feel like it's important not to rush anything. Thank you to everyone who has followed me, added my story to a reading list, voted, commented and read my story. 

Thank you so so much for 2k views, that's seriously awesome.

Comment your thoughts please!