If I stay

Shit.shit.shit. That was what was going through my mind as I held the phone in front of my face in disbelief. My father was Brian Haner Jr. aka Synyster Gates aka guitarist of Avenged Sevenfold. Suddenly things made sense.
My mother went to the gym with all the sweaty bodies and loud music because it reminded her of concerts she would have gone to if she was dating Brian. She had always liked black hair, tattoos and piercings because they reminded her of him. I had black hair and a snub nose, features that no one else in my family had, because my father gave them to me. My real father. Alex had never treated my any different and I didn’t remember a world in which he was not my father. My parents had never left even the trace of a hint that our family was not the screw up it seemed to be.
But I was different. Khrysty was different. And my mother had never felt the need to tell me. Now I knew why she let my dad cheat all he wanted, why she never bothered him about his countless whores and strip club filled nights. Now I knew. Because everyday, my father would have to look at Khrysty and me and remember and know. He would have to look at us and have proof that my mother had been with at least two other men during the course of their relationship.
When I was born, Brian was only fifteen, the age I was now. My mother could only have been seventeen. She had always told me that she had me young, but I had never felt the need to calculate just how young. Now, I wish I had taken the time to do the math because maybe then I would have had a chance to confront my mother. Maybe I could have asked her about it. Maybe she would have answered. But then again, maybe she wouldn’t. Layla Hatchmen had always been secretive and I never knew if what she was telling me was true or simply a cover of what she didn’t want to say.
But she was my mother. I was forced to believe her simply because I had no other choice. She was my mother and, lies or not, I loved her. And I wanted her to trust me, to confide in me, but mostly, I wanted her to believe that I was worth the truth. She was my mother, and she should have told me about my past, my heritage. My father. She was my mother. But she never told me the truth. She never gave me the key to myself, the map to what I was missing, the piece of my life that I couldn’t find. She was my mother. But in ways, she never really acted like it. She never really was in all ways except biological. But she was my mother.
I quickly clicked my phone shut and neatly put the papers back in the correct order and messily stuck the folder back into the file cabinet. I was in a daze, not caring if I left traces or even if I got caught. Brian Haner was my father. He was coming to take Darcy home to where I now knew was Huntington Beach, California. He would take Darc but leave without me. He would have to.
There simply was no other alternative.