"To answer your first question, Gray," I began with a deep exhale, "my..." I grimaced uncontrollably, "old name is Camilla Harrison." My jaw clenched as the words left my mouth. I wanted to vomit up my dinner, lunch, breakfast; hell, I even wanted to throw up that ham sandwich I ate the week before.
'Fuck, I can barely stomach this as it is.'
I sighed tiredly and decided the best thing to do would be to continue and get the torture over with. "My new and official legal name is Grace Stanton." I explained quietly, reiterating what I told John earlier.
Grayson quirked an unconvinced brow. "That's not answering my other questions." He pointed out and I shot him a withering glare, the urge to hurt him increasing by two hundred percent.
"I would be able to if you would just shut it for even a fraction of a second." I retorted, nearly on the verge of shutting him up for good.
'Maybe a nice uppercut would do the trick.' I pondered thoughtfully. Grayson was about to remark back, but when Ben hit him upside the head, he quieted down.
I let out a sigh and began to wring my hands, trying to figure out how to...speak.
'I guess it's time to come clean.'
"Fuck, how do I phrase this?" I muttered to myself, trying to collect my thoughts. I worried my cheek as I figured out the order in which to say this.
"You once asked me why I was at the Cemetery, Gray." I suddenly blurted, facing him. His eyes widened at my words before he cast his head down towards the ground guiltily. "And I told you it was because of my mother's death."
He nodded hesitantly, not seeming to understand why I was bringing that up.
"Well, if you want to learn why I needed to change my name, then you need to know how my mum died." I declared simply and hopped up to sit on my counter to stop my legs from giving out at the thought of the memories I was about to bring up.
The memories I hadn't dare remember since her death.
"My father died when I was about five years old." I began with a shaky breath. "He was battling a form of cancer called lymphocytic leukemia. He had battled it since before I was born, but it was chronic and incurable so it caught up to him in the end." I stated, swallowing thickly.
Fuck. As cliche as it sounds, I still fucking remember the times he taught me to swim, the times he showed me how to ride a scooter, the times he flew kites with me. I was his 'little princess' as he liked to call me and he was my best friend. I have the best memories with my dad and I know I'll never forget him.
Fuck, I still have the bracelet he gave to me in the hospital the night before he died.
'Keep going. Don't break down now.' I shook my head to rid myself of the emotions threatening to take over.
"After his death, my mum and I moved to the UK since we have extended family who live there and that was where she got a job as a part of The Crown Prosecution Service." The guys all exchanged confused looks so I elaborated, "Think of American district attorneys."
They all simultaneously let out an unintelligible sound as if to show that they got it, but I knew they still didn't fully understand me. However, I can say with full certainty, I didn't care.
"There, my mum was the equivalent of a district attorney." I smiled softly as I remembered the award ceremony her boss threw for her. "One of the bests, even."
"But one day," I let out a shaky breath, "that caught up with her and landed her in trouble."
'And here comes the shittest part of my story.'
YOU ARE READING
The Silver Fighter | ✓
Teen Fiction"I already killed your mother, Cam." As the words left my enemy's mouth like a mocking sneer, I growled under my breath at the mention of my old name. Memories started to boil up that I had been wanting to squash deep into my heart. Bad memories. "A...
