"You are adopted."

I stare. "What!" My older brother looks me right in the eyes and repeats,

"You are adopted."

I take a deep breath. My body begins to shake. Shiver.

"I know this is hard," he says, "but it's the truth."

It hurts. My face is red. Anger, sadness, pain. A blend of emotions that I never truly felt to such an extent before. Everything, a lie.

"You're wrong."

"I'm not."

"But you have to be," my face falls. My eyes stare down at coffee stained table. "You have to be," I whimper.

"I'm sorry."

The warm air blowing through the vent becomes extremely uncomfortable. I shift in my seat.

"I have to leave now but I hope you can work this out," he says, rising from his chair.

I remain.

A coffee with my name, "Anthony Stephens," written on its side, sits before me. I grab it, and drink.

The hot liquid slides down my throat. It burns.

I don't care.

I don't feel it.

A windy stone path lays before a magnificent red brick manor set on the backdrop of open blue skies and a glistening large lake. Grassy fields hug the triangle-shaped stones, some of which even sprout from within its cracks. Gardens of pink and purple flowers surround the home, and groups of thin vines scale the corners, avoiding the large black framed windows.

As I walk through the fields I watch as the individual blade of grass bends to the strong winds and yet, remains rooted in the ground. Oh, how I envy nature. The cool wind not only sways those planted in the dirt but rips my hat from atop my head and flings it further down the path, toward the black double doors that front the house. I quicken my pace, reaching my straw hat and placing it back atop my brown combed hair.

The door looms before me. I bring my hand up ready to knock. But I hesitate. What am I doing? Do I really want to this now? Am I prepared? I knock.

I wait for a mere minute in my beige dress pants and blue button down, my jacket hoisted onto my shoulder. The door opens.

"Mom!" Arese yells, already turning away.

"Anthony's here!" I wince.

"Hey, Arese," I attempt.

But to no avail, she scurries off, her thin frame turning around a corner. We were never close- her entering this world while I was preparing to leave it behind. Unfortunate.

My mother appears. She is a shadow. Her dark clothing and eyeliner makes her a living darkness. But not just physically. I can see darkness within as well. Her eyes, sunken pits, as if they are trying to distance themselves from the horrors that they've witnessed. Horrors that have etched cracks in her skin, shattering her pale face.

"Anthony!" she smiles. A flicker of light returns.

She comes closer, extending her arms for a hug. I step back. The light's gone.

"You lied to me."

She freezes.

"What," she whispers. "What are you talking about."

I take a step closer. My face turns red. "I know. I was adopted."

She is pure blackness. Her face contorts in pain.

"What," she says again, her delicate voice cracks.

"Jack told me," I snarl.

"But, but ... That's not true. I am your birthmother. I don't, don't ... understand."

"I don't believe you," my voice rising. "I don't believe anything you say. I'm only here to say goodbye."

"Goodbye? What do you mean goodbye."

"I mean, I'm leaving and not coming back," my hand clenches into a fist as my nails dig deep into my palm.

She tries to respond but she can't. Tears pour down her face falling in a puddle at her feet.

I turn away. I can't watch.

"Don ..." She begins. But it's too late.

I shut the door.

Inside she collapses on the floor.

I stop. The wind presses against my face pushing me back to the door.

I resist.

I can't return.