A/N: Sorry it's so short. I'll try and make it longer next time. Enjoy?
As the days passed, the tension and awkwardness grew between him and his family.
Every day, he would sit at the table, wondering just who was sitting with him.
Every night, he would sneak out and make it closer and closer to his greatest target. The doll on Madman Hill.
By the end of the month, the blonde had just about lost his mind. He would constantly drop hints and questions but his parents just seemed to move around them with irritating ease as if he was a child asking what he was getting for Christmas. It piled up inside and started to boil over in an annoying mess. As he stared at his chicken, he felt it pour out of his mouth and sting his tongue.
With an unknown source of true anger, he bolted up from his seat, slamming his hands on the table in a demanding way.
"Am I Edward Crowley?!" He screamed, staring at both his parents.
Both of them stared up at him in shock and stayed silent as they tried their hardest to think of something to say. When the silence built up, Edward summoned the anger once more.
"Answer me! Are you even my mother?!"
Tears formed in Trisha's eyes as she looked back down at her plate. The silence stayed as she slowly shook her head. "N...no..." She whispered.
The sadness in his mother's voice made him soften, almost forcing him to sit down. As he looked at the table, he realized what he had said and what was done. And he regretted it.
"I-I'm sorry, mom...Just forge-"
"No. No, it's about time you knew."
Trisha held the hand of her husband and drew out a shaky sigh. "Edward...you aren't our child." She said, fighting the tears that stung in her eyes. "We adopted you when you were eight..."
His mother slipped her hand up to her eyes, her shoulders shaking as she cried silently. Hohenheim sighed, rubbing his thumb against hers as they continued to hold hands. He would never admit it, but he too wanted to cry like his wife.
"Son, you aren't our biological child. But you are still ours." He said, looking at the teen who, himself, as almost at the breaking point.
"Who...was I?" Ed asked.
Tears falling from her cheeks, Trisha stood up and walked out, heading right up stairs to the master bedroom. This caused another sigh to escape from his father who turned to him, fighting the urge to rush up to his room as well.
"You are Edward Crowley. Since the day you were born, you were abused for an unknown reason. When you were seven...the police...they rushed in and saved you from your real parents." He said, looking away from his son's gaze.
The two stayed silent for what seemed like ages before the youngest blonde spoke up. "Who is Alphonse?" He asked.
The elder shook his head, standing up with his plate. "Someone you made up to make the pain hurt less."
"Hold still, Edward. This will only hurt for a moment."
He screamed against the cloth in his mouth as the shocks of electricity rushed from his temple down to every fiber of his being. His body thrashed against the bed he was strapped to as he tried to escape from the pain.
When the shocks had stopped, the tears that were held tightly against his lids finally slid down, his eyes opening.
Out of the corner of one stood the brunette that had always been by his side. Little Alphonse smiled as he took his elder brother's hand, his eyes filled with sorrow.
"Just squeeze my hand if it's to much, Brother. I'm here."
Once again, the shocks of pain swam through his veins and he squeezed his poor brother's hand tightly. When they had stopped, the 'doctors' that stood around pulled the cloth down from the child's mouth, looking into his pain filled eyes.
"Now tell us. Who is Alphonse?" One asked.
"M-my brother! M-my baby b-brother!" The blonde said proudly.
By the look of their faces, it wasn't the answer they were looking for. Slipping the cloth back up to his mouth, they shocked him once more. Threw the pain, he opened his eyes and stared into Al's.
"It'll be okay."
A/N: Shock therapy. Actually, they still have this. And it's sad. - ADAM
