Spring [Completed]

THIRTY-NINE

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CARA

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an•swers
noun
1. a thing said, written, or done to deal with or as a reaction to a question, statement, or situation.

"Just because I haven't said anything, doesn't mean I don't know."
—Unknown

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There is something to be said about a person who choses parenthood. It takes a certain kind of person to be a mother or a father. I don't think I am that kind of person. I can't be, because I can't comprehend why a mother would lie to a child about where they came from, or why a father couldn't recognize the daughter that he never knew existed.

I suppose there's something to be said about all of us. We're all liars. Some of us lie to the ones we love. Others lie to themselves about the obvious. I lie to myself about my fears. The suspicions surrounding my existence haunt me daily, and I lie about those too. We lie to protect. Maybe oneself or another. Regardless, we are all guilty, and we should all be punished.

I sigh, shoving my boyfriends arm from across my stomach, as I scoot away from him in bed. I've been up for at least an hour, just thinking about everything. The sun's barely risen, it's too early to be awake, too early to be thinking about my mom and dad, about the unopened DNA results that've been sitting in my dresser drawer for almost two weeks now.

Not knowing is eating me up inside.

The bed squeaks painfully loud when I roll off my side of it. I glance at Drew for a moment and he stirs, crinkling his nose before rolling over on his stomach. I run a hand through my tangled hair and blow out a breath as I search the floor for my clothes.

I wipe my eyes, cursing under my breath at the black smudge that comes off on my hand. After finding my bra and underwear, I stare at the luxurious purple dress that I wore to prom last night. It lies on the floor, the sequins looking excessively dreadful in the harsh morning glow. I'd feel ridiculous wearing it. Hell, I barely wanted to wear it last night, but she insisted that I go to prom. My mother always pushed me too far...

Looking around Drew's messy room, I spot an abandoned t-shirt draped across his desk chair. I swipe that, along with an old pair of gym shorts and begin to gather my stuff.

"Car?" Drew whispers as I bend over to grab my heels.

I pause, wincing slightly before turning to face him. He rests on his elbow, his jet black hair flopping into his face as he frowns.

"Cara, come back to bed," he pleads lazily, pouting slightly when I shake my head.

"I'll text you," I say, snatching my phone off his nightstand, leaving before he could get in another word.

The drive home was quiet, peaceful. The world had not yet awoken, and I liked it that way. There was far less things to roll my eyes at or be disgusted by. The house, much like the rest of the world was still asleep when I slipped inside, hiding in the soft shadows that dawn left behind.

My shower was hot, and long overdue. I washed away my insecurities, and for the first time I felt ready. I was ready for the truth.