The next morning I woke up with an unbearable headache and extremely sore muscles and limps. Luckily it's Saturday, so I'm not going to school before Monday. I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I had a black eye at the size of Russia, a split lip and bruises scattering down my chest all an almost complete black. I sighed and turned on the shower. I did my business and walked into my walk-in-closet. I dressed in a black long sleeved sweater and black skinny jeans. I put on black ankle socks.
I walked down the stairs, and to my utter surprise, my parents were sitting in the kitchen seemingly talking about something serious.
"Uh, good morning," I greeted and grabbed an apple from the fridge. I winched slightly when I took a bite, my lower lip throbbing.
"Good morning, honey, slept well?" My mother asked. I just nodded with a small smile. But when she saw my face her smile immediately vanished. She got up from her seat and rushed to stand in front of me. "What happened, Adam?" She asked worried and barely touched my bruised eye with her fingertips. I winced and flinched back from her touch.
"Nothing, I'm fine," I answered. She raised her eyebrows at me.
"Nothing? That's not nothing, Adam! Who did this to you?"
"No one! I ran into the door yesterday, that's all," I answered and looked down at her. She searched my face but then just sighed and nodded.
"Alright," she said and took her place once again beside my father. "Come sit, Adam, we need to tell you something," she added and gestured to the empty seat in from of them. I furrowed my eyebrows but took place nonetheless.
"What's up?" I asked, leaning back in the soft leather. My parents looked at each other and then looked back at me.
"There's something we have been neglecting to tell you, Adam, dear," my mother started and intertwined her fingers with my fathers.
"What?" I asked, suddenly feeling nervous.
"You're adopted," my father finally said and looked at me carefully. My world froze in place as my head run in overdrive. I'm adopted? It all suddenly makes sense to me. How I don't really look like an of my parents. How I look like that Luke boy. How I've always felt lonely and out of place. It's all simply because I don't belong in this family.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
"Because you deserve to know the truth. We know it's a little late, but we just thought-"
"Yeah it's a little late to tell me. You could have told me years ago. I would have understood. I'm seventeen, an only child, basically living in this house by myself. You don't know how it is to be me. I've always felt out of place, like I don't belong here, and now I know why," I said and got up from my seat. Ignoring my parents calls, I slammed my bedroom door shut behind me, locking it.