The Awful Truth

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“There she is,” I heard someone say quietly as I quickly made my way to the office at the end of the hallway.

“Look it’s her,” someone said as they pointed their white skinny finger in my direction.
I could feel the piercing stares every single person in that room was giving me. I felt uncomfortable as I saw how the twenty CIA Agents kept staring at me with their big glasses hunched over their noses. What’s their problem? All of them were sitting in their cubicles and had their computers and desks infested with pictures of the “Most Wanted” terrorists. Why can’t they continue doing their work? I kept asking myself. I reached the majestic glass door that had Travis Canola, General Chief of CIA, written in a black, bold font.

I came in and felt the sudden rush of air coming from the air conditioner. My hairs stuck up when they came in contact with the cool air. Before my eyes I saw something spectacular, a view to a never ending navy blue sky along with a pale orange horizon. My mouth dropped a little when I first saw through the window. On the other side of the office there was another window. This one had a view to four other walls. After all it was the Pentagon. I managed to see from a distance, a group of soldiers marching their way to the entrance of the Army department. Busy men with coffee in their hands and flying papers were also part of my view.

“You must be Collins Anderson,” a stranger behind my back said in a familiar voice. That was the voice I spoke to days earlier. The one that had told me all about Max Webb. The one that made me feel safe. I turned around to until my eyes met with warm honey eyes. So this is Canola, I thought.

“I pictured you differently,” I replied honestly.

“How so?” Travis asked curiously.
In my head, he was a fat guy about 50 years old that had been divorced twice. But Travis was a very good looking man that was in his mid-thirties. His muscular arms popped out from the tight green shirt he was wearing. And those eyes were simply to die for. I got lost in those hazel eyes, the doors of a kind heart.

“Hello? Ms. Anderson?” he said interrupting my daydream about him.

“Um, oops sorry.” I answered.

“Take a seat, please.”
I did as he said, not expecting a bit of what he was going to tell me.

A bunch of old pictures portraying a beautiful couple was what Canola was showing me. The woman had golden locks of hair covering her perfect face. Her skin was tan, but not too dark. She could have been easily confused by a model, tall and skinny, but at the same time with curves. The man standing next to him was also tall and slim, with slick black hair covering parts of his face. The faces were familiar, yet so unfamiliar. I know these people. I’ve seen them before. I thought as Canola kept showing me pictures.

“Collins, the reason I called you today was not only to congratulate you for seeking your revenge. No, there is another thing...” Travis said slowly. “Katherine and Steve aren’t your real parents. They are CIA agents that were told to pretend to be your parents.”

This is impossible. I thought as tears ran down my face and splotches of black mascara fell on my new white t-shirt. This can’t be happening to me. No, they are fooling with me. I kept thinking as Canola flipped through the pictures.

“I am truly sorry you had to find out this way, Ms. Anderson,” he kept repeating as I kept denying what they called the truth.

“I didn’t mean to hurt-”

“I don’t believe what you are saying! This is not true! I know who my parents are! All of this is pure bullsh*t!” I screamed at Travis Canola interrupting him. Who did he think he was? I thought.

“Look Collins, I am really sorry I was the one who had to tell you. But I am not lying. I wish I was, really, but I’m not. Don’t you want to know who the couple in the picture was?”
Deep inside of me, I wanted to know the truth. But part of me wanted to believe that Katherine was my mother and Steve my father. I nodded.

“The woman in the picture is Jennifer and the man is Dylan. They are you real parents. Before you were born, Jennifer and Dylan were on a secret mission to kill Max Webb. They had worked undercover and pretended to be workers for Max for more than ten years. Dylan had discovered Max’s weakness and was ready to destroy them. But somebody knew about their undercover and told Max. He was furious, you see, Max treated your parents as his own children. He had bonded with them and was infuriated when he knew about your parents. So he ordered his men to kill them.” Travis stopped to take a breath. “Where was I? Oh yeah, Max. Luckily, your parents found out and escaped before Max could do anything to them. They flew back to the US and headed straight to the Central Intelligence headquarters, where they found me. By that time, you were already born. Your parents, worried that something might happen to you, left me in charge of you. And that is when I gave you to Dr. McKinley.”
I was overwhelmed.

“But...w-why me? Why can’t I be one of those normal teenagers that have normal parents that go to work everyday?” I whined to Canola.

“Because you are not normal. You are the opposite, you are special.” the lady with the oversized suit and boring, old black shoes replied. Her hair was tight in a bun, and her hazel-brown eyes were being encircled by heavy duty eyeliner. This was Dr. McKinley, the agent that had covered my real parents lies throughout all of the past 16 years.

“You see? Your parents only wanted the best for you.” Canola dared to tell me.

I still remembered the way Canola’s mouth twisted as he told me the Awful Truth. His slim body came near me as I winced looking at the pictures of my real parents. All my life I thought I was a normal teenager with normal parents, until I met Canola.

At first I thought I was adopted, but it became even worst. My eyes were blinded by a translucent sheet called tears. My blue and green eyes were burning up and ready to explore with fury. My face covered in foundation was full of rage towards everybody for making me believe I was normal. My arms started to shake, gradually increasing while Canola made his way to me.

“No! This is all fake, you are lying! I know who my f****** parents are and I know that you are f****** messing with me. Stop it now!” I yelled realizing I had had enough of this nonsense.

There was nothing I can do. Denying it would be lying to myself, even though it wouldn’t hurt as much because I’ve been lied my whole entire life. Why me? I kept asking myself. Why me God?

I got up and turned to the glass door. I knew running away from my problems wouldn’t help, it would just make it worst. But that was the only thing I knew I could do, run away. I grabbed the cold handle and twisted it furiously. I don’t give a sh*t about what Canola or McKinley think about me. I ran as fast as I could from the door. I didn’t want anyone else to see me crying, not like this. I hadn’t realized someone had their foot sticking out until I fell flat on the floor. I heard someone let out a snicker and then it turned into a loud howl of laughter. I let out a cry as I got up and walked rapidly to the stairs. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t alive.





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