Page 49 of The Hallows Boys

I lick my lips as tears roll across them. “What is my real last name?”

Her hands fall back to her sides. “Sage…” Her words fall dead, and she gives me a sympathetic look that makes my stomach turn over.

“Gran.” Tears drop from my chin onto the floor. “Please, don’t give me this shit anymore. Who is Andrew Blackmore?”

Clearing her throat, she puts her hands against one another. “Well, sweetie, that’s your daddy.”

I shake my head. “I don’t fucking understand.”

“Now, don’t you use that language with me, Sage Grace Lindman!” my grandmother admonishes, giving me a stern look.

I huff a laugh. “Don’t you mean Sage GraceBlackmore?”

My words come out sharper than I intend, but it’s genuine. I’m so angry and upset that my entire body is shaking. I feel as if my entire life has been a lie, like I was born, and then everyone decided to rewrite the narrative of my story, and that isn’t fair. I should have been given all the information and been able to make my own choices. Instead, I was shoved into a life that wasn’t really mine, given a name that didn’t belong to me, and my parents died before I found any of it out.

I laugh, even though there’s nothing funny. “You know what, Gran? I can’t do this. I don’t want to hear it. I need to go lie down.”

“Sage, please.” She reaches out for me, but I’ve already started walking away.

“Later, Gran. Please,” I say, walking heavily to the staircase.

I make it to my bedroom just in time for my sobs to start up again. A sharp pain shoots through my ribs as my lungs heave, agonizing grief spreading through me in waves that make me drop to the floor just in front of my bed. I grab the blankets in my fist, burying my face and yelling out endless cries.

How could my parents not tell me the truth?

What was so bad about their past that they had to hide from it?

Turns out they hid it pretty well though, since they died before anything could come creeping from the shadows to haunt them. However, a sick feeling runs through me at the thought of what may be waiting for me in the future. What other lies and secrets are going to unravel around me? What else have my parents hidden away?

The fact that my own father is the founder of a fucked-up sex game makes my stomach churn so violently that I want to vomit. The very fucking games that his daughter was just subjected to. What kind of tormented and filthy mind must my father have had back in the day to begin a tradition like The Hallows Games?

Nausea spirals through me so quickly that my head spins. I shoot up, running like a rocket to the bathroom down the hall, making it just in time to spill the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

I cry, choking on sobs and dry heaves as I grip the porcelain.

Whatever happened to my father when he lived in Blackmore is his story – a story I’ll never hear from his lips, but it’s one I need to hear. He kept something from me, something so important that I can feel my soul shattering piece by painful piece as the words replay over and over in my head.

Blackmore. Andrew Blackmore. Sage Blackmore.

I flush the toilet, dropping the lid closed before I lean my elbows on it to prop up my head.

What else is a lie? Is my birthday even January 14th?

I wasn’t born in California, so what’s to stop my parents from doctoring the date on my birth certificate as well.

Bitterness sweeps through me, replacing the nausea and turning it to anger. My tears slow, and I clench my fists so tight as I stand up that my forearms throb. I rip my clothes off, pain radiating through my lungs as I breathe. I don’t bother hitting the light switch. I just let the small window cast a light glow over the bathroom as I turn the shower on.

I step in before the water has a chance to warm, standing under the freezing spray and wrapping my arms tight around my body.

Life’s a bitch, and karma is a nasty whore too, and maybe somewhere my parents are watching me suffer as a part of their own personal punishment. That is, if they actually did care about me after all. Who’s to say their love and affection wasn’t one giant bullshit lie as well.

My whole life, I’ve believed that destiny is written out for you – whether it’s at birth or through the choices you make – but today, right in this very moment, I can feel that I was wrong. No one is in charge of my destiny besides myself, and I am going to find out everything I can about who I really am.

I may not have answers right now, but I’ll stop at nothing until I get them.

Maybe it won’t be today, or tomorrow, or next month, but one day, I’m going to know where I came from, and what happened to my parents.

Maybe I’ll end up being the Sage Lindman I always was, but something is creeping inside of me, something that feels knotted and cynical, something that’s telling me that I’m more Sage Blackmore than I could have imagined.

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