Daddy’s Little Secret

Damian’s POV

Silence stretched taut across the room, a moth could be heard once it flapped its wings across the room. The food that was prepared by my mother tasted bitter in my mouth.

Something that hardly ever happened.

My mother was a splitting image of my brother. Olive skin. Blue eyes and hair that could pass as a bright red colour.

Every cutlery clutching against the porcelain plates created goosebumps that travelled across my skin.

My father focused on his newspaper, using his left hand to guard his paper and the other hand to eat his food.

I sighed silently. “How was England?”

They went there for a conference that my dad held for all the doctors across the country. I couldn’t go there because of work at the hospital.

My mum looked up from her food, smiled at him. That was a beautiful way of telling me she enjoyed the trip. My dad’s eyes still focused on the paper, he nodded his head.

Mum finally spoke up. “It was a beautiful conference.” She paused, as she dropped the cutlery against the plates. “Your dad did a great job setting a conference for every medical personnel.”

She continued. “It was a beautiful moment.”

“Wasn’t it, darling?” She asked.

I nodded along with my dad, unbothered by what was happening.

Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead even under the cold room. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words to my parents.

I looked between my parents and my brother, whose main concern was the food that was served to him.

The time was ticking…

One…

Two…

“I can’t do it anymore,” I blurted it out.

My parents' eyes darted across the table from where I sat.

My mother raised her eyebrows at me. I looked at her, as fear danced across my face.

This time, everybody’s attention was focused on me.

My mother stared at me, waiting for answers.

“I can’t go back there again.” I answered.

“Do what?” She asked. As three pairs of eyes stared into my soul.

“I want to start drawing,” I explained further. My mother was too stunned to speak, so she allowed my father to talk.

My father’s emerald eyes started to harden as he asked. “What will happen to your medical career?”

I turned my eyes away from him, staring at everything in the room except my parents.

“I’m going to put an end to it.” I said, feeling foolish for my choice of words

There was tension in the air, lingering around the room. My brother dropped his fork and looked at me.

My mum’s olive skin paled and the tightness with which she held her cutlery started to shake.

“Why?” My dad’s voice echoed around the silent room.

I laughed bitterly. This wasn’t a question they should be asking me.

My dad ran his hands through his hair creating a wave over his forehead.

My mum pulled herself together, straightening her shoulders.

She chuckled. “Stop saying nonsense. We are all eating.”

My eyes flickered over my dad who digs back into his food without bother. My mum’s usual demeanour was back.

I pinched my palm under the table this time, before speaking. “I’m not saying nonsense. I can’t continue.”

My mother’s jaw tightened.

“I have tried so long to tell myself I could do it.”

“But I’m torturing myself cause I don’t love it…”

“Stop it now, Damian” she runs her fingers against her temples. “Don’t give me a migraine, please.”

I screwed my eyes shut, regaining myself for the worse that’s about to come. “But it’s the tru—“

My mother begged me as her shaky voice stirring something deep across my chest. “Stop it now, will you?”

I opened my eyes. “We can’t keep hiding this for a long time. It’s making me so unhap—“

“Enough.”

My dad slammed his paper on the table, making me shiver from the cold that had started to settle in.

“What will happen to the hospital pass over that we organised for you?” My dad’s firm tone shot at me.

“Who will take over the hospital?” he asked once again.

I avoided his eyes. I couldn’t be so bothered about the hospital.

Someone better could take the offer. Except that someone else wasn’t me.

“Nola—“

“Don’t you dare” my mother stopped me right before I could complete my statement.

Nolan, my brother was the golden child. I was the one made for the media. I was the one made to suffer so they get whatever they had worked for.

I couldn’t do it again. Not anymore. Not again.

Drawing was not just a thing of passion, but also talent. I could see everybody’s emotions through them and outline them on a paper.

That was me. That was who I was.

My mother held her chest, as her eyes started to dim.

“Get out,” my father roared, sending a warning laced beneath his calm tone.

Nolan watched this unfold perfectly but, he couldn’t utter any word. Not like he was allowed to.

I stood up abruptly. “I’m sorry I wasted all your effort.”

My mother strained her eyes at me. “You wasted our time as well.”

Tears gathered behind her eyes. “We took you in.”

Here we go again. A lecture about how they were the only ones that helped me while life was dealt with me a lot.

My dad growled at me.

My mum looked into my eyes. “All Nolan did was make us happy.” She paused. “But with you, it’s a pain I can’t bear on my own.”

A pain so sharp hit my chest as I looked at her.

“I was not yours to begin with,” I spoke, almost loudly.

She opened her mouth slightly, her eyes widening, while my father’s hands landed hard on my cheeks from across the table.

I took in the sting of the slap. My jaw tightened.

My father spoke his final words. “Get your things and leave my house, you ungrateful son of a b**ch.”

I looked between him and my mother whose face screamed an approval.

“Thank you, Father” I said politely.

“Till we meet again.”