I wrote this story while thinking about life and family. Everyone has secrets; sometimes these...
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“Who are you?” she asked, worry vibrating her voice.
“Miss, I am Officer Stanley. I am very sorry to inform you that your husband, John, was killed in a terrible accident.”
Mother blinked a few times in disbelief. Her body twitched in several areas before collapsing to the floor. Distressed, incoherent sobs flooded the entire house as Mother shrieked in pain.
“It is all my fault,” she wailed. “I made him ten minutes late!” Tears stained her porcelain cheeks and she began to rock herself on the floor. Officer Stanley knelt by her side and tried to comfort her. However, no one could console her. I could not believe what I had just heard. Father is gone?
Emotions pushed against my chest, feeling like someone had stabbed my heart. Trevor longed for Father and began to cry wildly. Lilly sat among the chaos, oblivious to the fact that she would never see her father again. I sprinted upstairs and flung myself onto my bed. I screamed into my pillow, beating the mattress with malice. After a long period of silence, I passed out, unwilling to face reality.
Mother stopped me one morning on my way to go to town. “Matthew, there is something I must tell you,” she said. “This story goes back to the beginning. When I was a young adult, I lost both of my parents in a flood. I was devastated and left with no home, no money, and no parents. Every night, I would go to bed hungry. I decided the only way to survive was to become a prostitute. With the money I received, I barely ate two small meals a day. I doubted I would live much longer when a miracle occurred.”
“One morning, I was walking home and passed by a young man from the wealthy district of Fargus. I thought nothing of the encounter until he stopped me and handed me a handful of money. When I asked him why he helped me, he said, 'I think your eyes are pretty. They look just like mine.' He winked at me and walked away. I never forgot his kindness. Only a few days later, we met again and fell in love. Shortly after, we married and he took care of me. That man was the man who raised you,” Mother proclaimed.
“You mean Father?” I curiously asked.
“No, Matthew, John is not your father.”