We arrive at my grandparent's place. It's beautiful. Suddenly I'm extremely nervous. I don't like public places. Back home I don't mind get togethers and occasional barbeques and a few social gatherings that me and my dad indulge in. I don't mind it because I know almost everyone over there. It's like a huge family and they've known me since I was a baby. But this is different. My biological parents are famous. Extremely famous. People always want to know everything about the Greys. I myself have searched my parents on the internet.
The internet is obsessed with them. It's kinda scary.
There are countless articles about the Grey family. Some as old as 20 to 21 years ago, about a guy named Jack Hyde who had kidnapped my aunt Mia and my mom had rescued her,
risking her own life. Some articles about Theoder Raymond Grey's birth. Some about their daughter's birth aka my about Phoebe's adoption. But most searched ones seem to be about the kidnapping of Annabeth Grey.
"Three year old Annabeth was kidnapped by a masked figure. There was a breach in the security, an inside job. It was impossible to infiltrate the Grey security team. But someone on the inside had betrayed them. A trusted bodyguard maybe? A spy working for Grey's nemesis? An ex-employ? Someone with a vendetta against the Greys? Whoever it was had found a chink in their armour. It had to be done by an extreme professional. Countless failed attempts to find the child were made. But there was no sign of Annabeth Grey. It was very unlikely that she has survived.".
But I had survived though . Against all odds. When the wind got out the papparazi went crazy. The Grey house is always surrounded by them and even though I know that our security is extremely tight, it's still unnerving. I've never had to deal with anything like this before. I was never extreme social media addict but I did have an account of facebook and instagram and used it to communicate with my close friends only. Now I've had to deactivate those because of the number of follow requests and friend requests I've been receiving. Dad inststed on it, of course. But even if it weren't for him, I would've deactivated those because of the messages I was receiving. Some people were being really sweet and genuinely congratulating me. But the others were vile and cruel. How do famous people deal with this? The amount of hate was shocking. And some messages were downright scary. People threatning to hurt me, kidnap me and do unspeakble things to me. I was horrified. I had a talk with my mom as well as my dad back home (Adrian Chase) and both of them were able to calm me down.
"Nervous?", my dad asks me as he pulls me out of my overthinking. "A little bit", I admit.
"You'll have a lot of fun. Don't you worry about anything.", he assures me. I nod at him and give him a small smile which he returns. We all step out of the limo. Yes, I said Limo. Nothing but the best for the Greys. As mom hooks a hand around my dad's arm , I feel a sharp and unexpected pang of pain. My mother used to do that, my adopted mother I mean. I normally don't think about my adopted mother. On purpose. Because when Arianna Chase died, she took a part of me with her. She was an angel. I've never met a kinder and purer soul in my entire life. But you know what they say about pure souls. The god wants them for himself. When we lost her, I couldn't take it. I didn't cry . I didn't laugh. I was numb. I shoved all memories of her in a box and threw it away. Pretended that she didn't really exist. Spent all my time in school and in taking care of my dad. Didn't stop the panic attacks though. I tried to keep them to myself but one day my dad found me shiverring and crying, having a panic attack. That was it for him, I think. He signed us both up for some therapy. Dr Worthington is one hell of a therapist. He basically taught me and my dad to feel the pain of her loss instead of pretending that she didn't exist. Because, according to him, the only way to get better was to feel the pain. And then slowly accept the fact that she is gone. And that she was never coming back and would've wanted us to live our lives happily.
I shake my head and try to suppress my sudden urge to run away and curl myself in a ball, alone. This would be a bad time for anything of that sort. That's an understatement. I try to get my shit together and hook my arm to Ted's. Phoebe is already on his other arm and they're looking at me with worried expressions. "You alright? It wouldn't be that bad you know? just smile and wave occasionally but don't talk to anyone.", Ted says, assuming that I'm nervous. "I'm fine.", I tell him as I smile at him.
Soon I'm blinded by flashlights, but I try my best to smile and wave. It's unsetteling to have stranges call out your name and pose a certain way. One thing I know about myself is that I am extremely unphotogenic. The cameras hate me and I can almost never take a good picture. So I've eventually stopped caring about what I look like in pictures. My dad Adrian always lies about it and tells me that I look beautiful but that's a father talking. I know for a fact that I look like an absolute pig in pictures.
After posing for a few pictures, we all enter the house.