CHAPTER 11: Truth Revealed

We sat down on a couch.
"So . . . what truth is this that you're dying to . . . make known?" I asked.

"Well, whoever that "random Chomper" is, well . . . he has definitely got his facts straight." my mother answered.

I felt a sinking feeling right in the pit of my stomach. I was just an unloved piece of dirt that nobody gave a crap about.

"So, t-take it away alread . . ."

I couldn't finish my sentence, because I had started crying uncontrollably. My body shook and trembled, and with every sob, the desire to take my own life and be buried in Humber Summit's infamous graveyard grew. Let's face it: nobody loves me. Peater doesn't actually love me. My own parents don't love me. What reason do I have to stay alive?

"Elyssia, don't cry. The hurt will go away if you'd just listen. Hush your tears, and let us speak." my father whispered.

"G-go on . . ." I stammered as my sobs threatened to take over my voice once more.

"Fine. Elyssia Antonia." My mother said.

"I'll tell you the sorry, sordid tale.

"I paced the greenhouse in our local hospital with irritation and regret filling me up as if some incapacitating alcoholic drink was forced right down my throat, and that I was being driven mad by it. Why did I have to give birth to a damn daughter?! What the hell is the matter with my life? How could I be stupid enough to say that having a daughter ― or a son ― would be like Heaven on Earth?! Oh, I am so stupid!

"Antonia? Are you all right?" Peter asked me.

I shook my head and pressed my face right into my leaves. "Why did I have to have daughter? My life is ruined!" I cried.

"I know. She wasn't supposed to be born, Antonia." Peter whispered.

"A few days later, you were grown. You were pretty much the spitting image of me. As I looked into your blue eyes, you smiled and shot a frozen pea.

"You God-forsaken, hell-sent tyke! What the hell is your problem?!" I cursed, for the impact was one I was not prepared for, and as a result, it hurt like hell.

"You did not seem fazed by my use of bad language; in fact, you looked as if you wanted to laugh, for your face had a huge smile on it.

"Oh, Jesus! Son of God, son of Mary! Help me!" I muttered.

The way you acted in response almost made me laugh, but something in my heart locked. I remembered my bitterness, and I scowled as I stomped right up and left you, my ugly, ridiculous and hideous daughter, to your own double damned devices.

"Antonia, has she grown?" Peter asked.

"Yes, and she's ridiculous and ugly!" I spat.

"I can see that you're still so bitter, Antonia. Maybe our little sprout might just be a blessing, and not a curse!" Peter whispered.

This time, I actually shot a frozen pea at the ground.

"And aren't you the one who said that having children wasn't worth it?" I asked sharply.

"Look, Antonia. This girl of ours just might be nice! Sometimes, you just gotta be open!" Peter answered, almost as fiercely.

"You idiot!" I growled as I slapped him.

"You're the thick headed idiot! You're just so selfish!" Peter snarled.

"You're the selfish one! Weren't you the one who always applauded when your father beat me for my mistakes?" I retorted, with tears of anger and frustration welling up inside my eyes.

I turned away and let them fall to the ground, and join all the tears of those who were broken hearted.

"Why did I have to be an orphan?" I asked myself softly as my sobs took over.

"Antonia . . . that crap's in the past! And besides, I'm just telling you the truth!" Peter exclaimed.

I sighed and lowered my eyes.

"Fine. We'll keep her, and not put her up for adoption by foster parents. But ― on one condition." I said finally.

"And that would be . . .?"

"Pay as little attention to her as possible." I answered.

"It was official. We brought you home. You were unusually quiet, and you smiled less often.

"Well, at least she wouldn't be so hell-bent on laughing right out loud whenever I come!" I huffed.

"Ummm, you might want to be careful about your words, Antonia." Peter reminded me.

"You'll never realize just how precious our little daughter is until we lose her."

I rolled my eyes as I walked out of the room.

When I saw you, I was shocked at what you were doing. You were sending tiny jets of ice around the room as you coughed, and your crystals were turning a blue that was lighter than normal.

"Daughter!" I screamed as I ran over to you, seeing as I hadn't given you a proper name.

"What is the matter with you? Go to sleep!" I growled.

You had tears well up inside your eyes, and your face had turned into a deathly, ghostly pale.

"Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy!" I cussed as I went inside my room for a nap.

"I was awoken by crying. But it wasn't any old crying; no; the cries were nerve wracking, and they made me want to cry as well.

"What is going on here?" I asked as I came down the stairs.

I saw Peter sitting beside you, my anguished daughter, trying to comfort you, but to no avail. Your crystals were nearly transparent, and she was so pale and sickly that tears came into my own eyes.

"Peter! Is she all right?" I asked in a worried voice.

The Gatling Pea shook his head sadly.

"Nope. Absolutely not. I checked her heartbeat and . . . it's slower than usual. She's gonna die soon, no doubt . . ." I gasped, and tried my leaf at giving you comfort.

"Sshh . . . it's fine . . . I'm here . . ." I whispered, but to what benefit?

I remembered your little smile whenever you saw me. I actually missed it. Then, I realized that a part of me was going to die.

"We must take her to a hospital." I whispered.

"Well, will she be fine?" I asked Dr. Juli.

"Well . . . let's see. We've done everything, but . . ." she trailed off uncertainly.

"But what?" Peter asked, rather impatiently.

"We're not sure if she'll live. You'll have to wait it out." Dr. Juli answered before she walked right back into her office. I closed my eyes and sighed. Surely, there must be a way . . .

"The girl lives! The girl lives!"

Those were the words that roused me right out of my sleep.

"Probably someone else . . ." I murmured as I blinked back tears.

But the tiny blossom of hope that had sprung in my heart was stubborn, and it wasn't going to let my pessimistic attitude kill it.

"Peter, maybe they're talking about our little daughter." I whispered.

Then I looked beside me and gasped. Peter was missing.

"Peter?" I called out.

Surely enough, that slapstick came rushing over to me.

"Antonia! Our daughter lives!" he exclaimed as he hugged me tightly.

I smiled.
"I'm glad that is so. I guess you were right all along." I whispered.

"Come on in. You'll see her."

I was led into a hospital room, where you were lying, with your eyes shut tightly, and your crystals their normal shade of blue.

"Wake up!" I whispered.

You slowly opened one eye, then the other.

I had never been happier to see those pretty blue eyes.

"You're all right!" I whispered happily.

You giggled, which made a totally random word float into my head. It was a name, to be precise. Elyssia. It was a beautiful name . . . my mother's name.

"I love you, Elyssia."

"So... there you have it. Your story. Your truth." my mother said.

Meanwhile, I was wiping away tears.

"You actually . . . felt that way when I was born? That I was a waste of time?" I asked.

My mother nodded. "But if it wasn't for your father . . ."

My father grinned.

"You would have died, Elyssia."

I just decided to end the conversation right then and there, and go to bed, as I was feeling drowsy and lightheaded.