I was walking down a very pretty road lined with blooming cherry blossom trees that did not belong in the climate of southern California. I was dropped off at the gate instead of being driven all the way up to the house. It would have saved me ten minutes, but I wanted to remember this. There were only so many things I had the luxury of remembering, but this was new. This road and this place and these feelings were all new. I needed to keep new memories close.

The sun broke through the thin branches of the trees and shined down on me. My hands were sweating in my gloves, making the fabric damp. A flower fell in front of my face and landed at my feet before a soft breeze blew it away.

The day was too pretty.

By the time I made it to the house, the stone in my gut hadn't disappeared. If anything, it had grown heavier and denser than when I'd arrived.

To say the house was big would be an understatement. It was obnoxiously large. It must have been able to fit several families and protect them with the bricks of stone that made up the walls. It shielded me from the sun with its shameful height. Ivy climbed up parts of the walls, but not due to nature's natural workings. It seemed to have been cut and planted and parts even draped from the stones above. A decorative feature to make the scene look organic.

But my father couldn't succeed in this illusion. In order to fake something, you'd need to know what the truth actually looked like. Lying wasn't easy, not even for him.

The door was dark wood and stood at least twice my size. The grain of the wood decorated the door with the memory of the tree it was cut from. It was glossed and sturdy and must have been heavy, and I couldn't stop analyzing it because of the dread I felt knowing that I would have to walk through this door.

I closed my eyes, clenched my fists as tightly as I could and breathed in deep steadying breaths. I rapped my knuckles on the door.

Unfortunately, someone answered. I had to stand back as the door swung open.

A man stood in front of me. His bright blue eyes contrasted with his nearly black hair. He was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt and looked down at me with disinterest. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Hi," he finally said. "You must be her." I scowled at him.

"Yeah, seems like I must be her. I take it you're not my father." He laughed dryly.

"Great observation."

"Look, I don't want to be here anyway." I dug into my pocket, took out the crumpled piece of paper, and waved it in his face. "In case you didn't know, I was asked to come to this address to see the man claiming to be my father, if he's not here-"

"Come on in." He stepped aside, inviting me into the house. I scoffed, but stepped inside.

Everything was very...white. Pristine white as if no one could decide on a color scheme and just didn't pick one. Even the floor was white marble. Straight ahead of the foyer was a large curved staircase leading to the second floor. To my left, a doorway led to a seating area where the furniture added some color to the room.

"He's waiting over there," the guy told me as I stared into the room. "Go ahead." I turned around.

"Thank-" I was cut short when I realized I was talking to the air, "you?"

Without realizing it, I was inching my way toward the room. My pulse quickened. My breathing stuttered. Bit my bottom lip hard and squeezed my eyes shut.

In the span of seconds, I saw myself as a child drawing my nonexistent parents in a classroom. I was crying at night wondering why I wasn't wanted. I was walking across a graduation stage with a stubborn frown on my face as my foster parent snapped pictures, knowing that the hard years of public schooling had amounted to a moment that this unwanted child couldn't care less about.

I saw myself putting one step in front of the other across a marbled floor and walking into a room to see a man sitting on a red leather couch. His elbows were on his knees and he biting his thumb.

The stranger looked up when I entered.

His eyes widened. His jaw dropped. He stared. I stood there awkwardly in the grandiose living room in my converse and beanie.

His hair was chocolate brown like mine, and his skin had the same natural tan. Other than that, I saw no resemblance. His clear grey eyes contrasted with my dark brown ones, and his face was narrower. There was nothing special. He looked like any other man you would see on the street.

The feelings in my chest faded suddenly, but a lump still formed in my throat.

Besides his obvious wealth, I couldn't find anything spectacular about this man. I felt no connection to him.

My life had been tainted with a veil of pain. It was riddled with confusion. Yet, there was no sign of closure from this very typical human being.

I ground my teeth together.

"Madison." He breathed my name. He said it like we'd been longtime friends. Like I hadn't given myself the name. He stood.

"I know...I can't...I don't even..." He shook his head and grinned like he found his own flustered stutters amusing. I scowled at him. The man was moving towards me. "It's been a very long time, Madison. I realize you don't actually...know me. But I know you, I've been..." He cleared his throat, "I've been waiting for this day for so long."

I took a step back.

"Who are you?" I said. His eyes widened, surprised.

"I'm...I'm your father, Madison."

"Stop saying my name!" I shouted. He started. "Who are you? Why do you live in this house? Why did you ask me to come here?"

He blinked at me, as if he had a right to be confused.

"I'm...Matthew. Matthew Hart."

"And where have you been all this time?" I gestured around at the enormous mansion. "Here? Hiding behind your own wealth where I would never find you?"

"I did it for-" Before he could finish, I reached for my hand and pulled my white glove off. I threw it at him.

"What did you do it for? For me? Did you know about this?" I held out my hand for him to shake.

"Go ahead," I said between gritted teeth. "Take it."

He looked from my hand to my face, then back again. His expression changed. This was not the reunion he'd expected. He swallowed.

"You can't do it can you? Because you know what I am. You left to protect yourself from me. I'm not an idiot, dad." I picked my glove off the floor. "This was a mistake. I never should have come here." I headed for the door.

"Wait!" He gripped my shoulder and spun me around toward him. "You don't understand. You might never understand...but give me a chance. I'm asking for a chance. I know about you, about everything."

I shook his hand off.

"A chance. Like you gave me a chance?" I looked him dead in the eyes. "Like my mother gave me a chance? Where is she in all of this? Did you two part ways and leave me alone in an orphanage? Did you drop off your little monster so that both of you can have a fresh start, you pieces of human garbage?" I shouted the last part.

"Madison-"

"Is she going to call me too? Why don't we all have a nice family reunion and discuss what happened in the past twenty-one years?"

"Madison..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "Madison, she's dead."