In The Eye Of The Storm

Fifteen. The turning point of my life. The day when I found out that I was not an Adams; I am Black.

My name is Carrisa Black, eighteen years old, haunted by a man in the shadows, running through the fog that blinds me from my path to a normal future and hoping to know who my real parents are. I am pushed into the eye of the storm.


3. I am a Black

Tuesday, May 20, 2008, 9:04 am

What should I do? Should I go or not? Why not? I've got nothing to do. But, what if whoever wrote this wants to harm me, or worse... How am I sure that I didn't type this, and then forgot I did? What if I go there and in the end, disappoint myself? 


No. I'll go. Maybe there IS something to see and to mum, it will look as if I am doing something for my future; maybe I am.


It takes one hour to get to Alley Way Park, and if I get a bus at ten, I would be able to have lunch at the mall nearby. I thought. I'll be there earlier than should be. Then I'll meet whoever is coming.


I scanned my room for reassurance. I was sitting on the left side my purple bed, with different coloured circles dotted in places, facing the wide window. My study desk, filled with paper, a lamp and other things, was against the same wall. Behind me was my closet with of different outfits with a range of colours and styles. On some days, I have a random fashion show with my friends. How I love those days. The consistent white wall to my right was where the headboard of the bed was leaning against and the other wall was where the wooden door hung, open just a crack. This was my room, my place, but sometimes, being in this room, I felt like I was living someone else’s life.


Leaving the computer opened to the document on the bed, I headed to the bathroom to freshen up and get changed. Once I felt ready to go, I looked in the mirror and saw the image of Carrisa Black, aged eighteen. Serious brown eyes, fair skin, prominent cheeks, crosses eyebrows, sharp nose, thin, red lips, pointed chin, wispy, shoulder-length, brown hair with a slight side-fringe. I wondered what would become of this girl in the next few years.


I picked up some items from my room: my iPhone, earphones, my wallet with some cash and a small sling-bag to carry all these items in. I liked to pack light; always ready to run when I needed to, whether to get away from the chaser, or to be the chaser. Also, I got my favorite cap to bring with me. Apparently, it was my dad’s, and so was given to me when they eventually broke the news of the fact that I was actually adopted. It was one of the worst days of my life, but also a relieving day. It was on my birthday.



November 27, 2004, 9:30 pm

Fifteen. It doesn’t feel any different. I thought. Interesting. And awesome! I get to make my own choices!


My thoughts were all happy, back then; carefree and fun. I always had a smile on my face. Nothing seemed to be a problem to me. I was lying down on my bed, thinking about the events that happened today, a very lovely day; friends coming over to my b-day party, enjoying and having fun, gossiping and chatting. Nothing could destroy my day. Nothing I was aware of anyway.


Then there was a knock on my door, and mum and dad came in with huge smiles. They both had blond hair, so did Sam; I never even wondered why MY hair was brown, it never bothered me.


“Hey, hey, birthday girl! Trying to sleep already?” mum said enthusiastically. Both of them walked to my bed and sat, one on each side of the bed.


“No, actually. Day dreaming. Or should I say night dreaming, cuz it’s night time now,” I giggled like a little girl. Never would I have anticipated what was coming.


“So, did you enjoy your day?” dad asked.


“Yeah! Totally! It’s the best day ever!” I exclaimed.


“That’s great! Really great!” he declared. He scooted closer to me, and held my right hand in his. “Carrisa, we,” he gestured at mum, “are happy that you loved today. So we hope that this won’t ruin it, ok?”


“Honestly, dad. Do I look any less happy? Nothing will bring this girl down! Not today!” I didn’t know how wrong I was.


“That is good to hear, dear,” mum said, also coming closer. “Did you realise that we didn’t give you a gift today?”


“Mum, dad, you have! Today is the best gift I could ever have!”


“Ok. Well, we have decided that you are ready,” they both had solemn faces now.


This faltered my attitude a bit, “ready for what?”


“Some news we think you can handle at your age.”


Now, I was beginning to sense a discomfort in the air, and bad news, “what news?”


“Are you sure now is the right time, Dave?” mum asked dad.


“Yes, she has to know,” keeping his sad, blue eyes trained at me.


“Know what?” they were scaring me. My heart was racing. Faster than it had ever been before, “tell me!”


“We’ll tell you, Carrisa. But don’t take it too hard, dear. Promise me that,” mum told me firmly.


“Yes,” I whispered.


“Promise me.”


“I promise,” I announced a bit louder. I waited for mum to start explaining, but it was dad who continued on.


“Do you ever wonder why you look different compared to us and why don’t resemble either of us?” he asked.


“Yeah. When people ask me that. I just thought it’s some kind of gene change or something.”


“No, it’s not because of that,” he paused, giving me time to prepare myself, “it’s because you were adopted.”


Adopted? Me? I stayed silent, my excitement killed by the unexpected revelation that was thrown at me tonight. My body felt limp. It didn’t feel like mine any more, like my soul and spirit was pushed into this creature that did not correspond with the life that I was meant to have. Adopted? Suddenly, I felt lonely. Alone. I didn’t belong to this family and these weren’t my parents. They were Sam’s. But Sam is not my brother. No wonder I looked different.


But…how about my real parents? Where were they? Did they abandon me? Why couldn’t I remember them?


As if he was able to read my thoughts, dad said, “your parents gave you up for adoption.” That’s great, they did abandon me. “Well, at least that’s what their will stated.”


“Their will?” I looked up at him.


“Yes. Before they died,” oh so, they’re dead. That doesn’t make this any easier to comprehend and it was not easy to at first, “they wrote their will. It said that you would be given for adoption if ever they died before you became 2 years old; I don't why. They had a car crash when you were only four months. Fortunately, you weren’t there with them.”


“Where was I?”


“The report said that you were at home, with a nanny. Your biological parents were out to attend a party.”


“Whose party? Who was the nanny?” I was now eager to know the whole story.


“Sorry, Carrisa, that’s all we know. They didn’t tell us any more. Nor did the report,” what? The report would have the full story. They were hiding something.


“Where’s the report?”


“I don’t know. It was somewhere once, but we lost it. We wanted you to see it, but we couldn’t find it,” mum reasoned. I looked down at my lap, saddened. Today was meant to be the happiest day of my childhood. But it turned out to be the worst. Why has fate done that to me? Why now?


“Is my name really Carrisa Adams?” I murmured out the question, body tensed.


“No, not Adams. It’s Black. Your real, birth name is Carrisa Black.”


Carrisa Black. I thought. That is who I am from now on.


“You promised you wouldn’t take this too hard. So don’t. You are still part of this family. You are still part of the Adams family. And most importantly, you are still yourself. You have not changed. You are still that same girl that we, your father and I, have brought up to become, who you are meant to be, ok?” she came closer and brushed her hand gently against my cheek, then planted a soft kiss on my forehead.


“Good night, Carrisa,” dad uttered, giving me a hug that I did not acknowledge. They left me shocked on my bed, my eyes staring blankly at whatever was in front of me. Left on the bed was a red and white cap, and a letter with mum's handwriting.


I read it out loud, "This was your dad's. Authorities found it in his house and your name was on it," there it was, on the inside of the cap, "he probably wanted it for you. Happy birthday, Carrisa! Be that same girl for us, ok? From, mum." For a while, I stared at the cap, it was so simple and yet held so much value. To me at least. I placed the cap on my head and took a deep breath, thinking about what mum wanted for me.


I am not the same the girl anymore, mum. I was Carrisa Adams. I am Carrisa Black. I am a Black.



Tuesday, May 20, 2008, 9:43 am

I went down, still a bit dazed about my memory-daydream, to find everyone crowding the front door. I slowed so I wouldn't attract too much attention to myself. What were they doing? This week was a holiday for everyone and yet they all dressed formally. I just had blue shorts, a plain red t-shirt and a black hoodie, with mid-night blue socks and converse for my feet.


"Ah, Carrisa there you are! We were all waiting for you!" dad beckoned me over.


"Uh, what's the event?" I asked, confused.


"You've forgotten? We're going to my friend's party!" mum exclaimed. 


"Oh! The party!" It had totally slipped off my mind, due to the cramming of worries and problems in my brain. Putting an innocent smile on, I said calmly, "I don't think I can make it, mum. I have something important to do. You know, like looking for something."


This made her eyes widen with excitement, but dad apparently didn't take it that way, "Carrisa! This is a very close friend of-"


"It's ok, darling. Let her go," she had a wicked grin on her maked-up face, "this is important to her, right?" Pointing that last question to me.


"Yes, it is!" 


"Ok, Carrisa," dad announced, "you don't have to come with us."


"Dad!" It was the usual complainant Sam, "it's not fair! I don't want to come either!"


"You, mister, will come with us whether or not you want to," mum declared, "besides, James here would want a companion." Inside, I was laughing my head off at the sight of Sam's pout.


Good luck, bro. I thought quietly. You'll need it. 


He was the only one I considered a family. We were close, though we had our...not-so-happy-moments. Dad opened the door and we all went out, with mum closing and locking it behind us. Then they all boarded the white Honda four-wheel drive car and left. I was standing on my own on the grey concrete in front of the beige, two-story terraced house. This was my life, and I control it. After a few more minutes, I walked on to the bus stop to wait for a bus to Alley Way Park.


"Here I come, whoever you are," I whispered out, "and you better be there."

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