After reaching his familiar abode, Devon stood before the door he had known for almost nine years and rapped on it gently.
Throughout his time there, he had continuously pondered why he was treated as an outcast, harboring the mistaken belief that his adoptive mother was his biological parent. Countless times he had questioned himself and confronted her, seeking an explanation, only to be met with her unabating animosity.
The persistent mistreatment he endured made him keenly aware that something was amiss.
Clearly, there was an underlying issue. He was not her child, but the mystery of how she came to be his guardian perplexed him.
Deep within his being, he intuited that the Blackwoods were somehow entwined in this situation.
As the door swung open, a fleeting moment allowed him to catch sight of Trevor, his adoptive brother, before it abruptly slammed shut, evidently shocked by Devon's unexpected return.
Within a matter of moments, the door swung open once more, and Devon's countenance remained composed as he laid eyes on his mother, who appeared equally taken aback by his presence.
Eliza Harris, an attractive woman in her late thirties with short black hair that fell just past her shoulders, scrutinized Devon with a furrowed brow and wide hazel eyes.
With a tone laced with disdain, she finally spoke, "So you've returned. I thought you were gone for good."
Devon maintained his gaze, his expression devoid of emotion, and then shifted his attention to Trevor, his adoptive brother, who wore a similar expression of contempt. Trevor's hazel eyes bore into Devon's, seemingly capable of casting him back into the depths of the grave.
Interestingly enough, Trevor was a mere five months older than Devon—an aspect that had always intrigued him.
At the age of eighteen, Trevor exuded an air of dominance, utilizing his physical strength and imposing stature to intimidate others. Standing tall at around 6 feet, he commanded attention and instilled fear with his piercing hazel eyes that bore a cold and challenging gaze. His dark, tousled hair further accentuated his rebellious demeanor.
Despite Trevor's intimidating presence, Devon never harbored fear towards him. In a one-on-one confrontation, Devon was confident in his ability to emerge victorious. However, there was one person he did fear—his mother. Eliza had always taken sides, and it was only logical that she would stand by her biological son.
"So, where did you disappear to, Devon?" Trevor inquired, his curiosity evident in the raised eyebrow he directed at Devon.
Meeting Trevor's gaze with an impassive expression, Devon responded, "That's none of your concern, Trevor."
In an instant, his mother's hand came crashing down, delivering a stinging slap to his face.
"Now, answer the question," Eliza demanded, her tone confrontational and unwavering.
Devon clenched his fists tightly, seething with anger as he locked eyes with Eliza. His words dripped with icy menace as he retorted, "In case you're wondering, I've come to the realization that you're not even my mother."
Eliza was taken aback, her face draining of color as shock washed over her. Uncertain of how to respond, she stammered, "Y-you... you know?"
With a cold and furious expression, Devon nodded sharply. "Yes, Mother. It's all crystal clear now. You made it painfully obvious, anyway. And I must say, I'm relieved that you're not my mother," he snarled, forcefully pushing past them and ascending the stairs towards his room.
"Mom, what the hell just happened?" Trevor exclaimed, his confusion evident in his voice. "Did that weirdo find out about his twisted past?"
Eliza let out a weary sigh, her gaze fixed on her son. "It seems so," she replied, her tone heavy with resignation.
Trevor's anger simmered as he confronted his mother, his voice laced with frustration. "So, what's the plan now, Mom? Are we still going to pretend to be his loving family, or now that he knows the truth, are you going to drop the act and admit that you always cared about him, huh?"
Eliza's expression hardened, her voice tinged with indifference. "I couldn't care less about him, son. What's important is finding out the extent of his knowledge. He wasn't meant to remember anything, so if he does, something must have gone terribly wrong," she mused, her mind consumed with thoughts of where he had been during the past week.
"Why should we even bother if something went wrong, Mom?" Trevor questioned, a deep frown etched on his face.
"There are many things you're unaware of, Trevor. Many things," Eliza stated cryptically before turning away and walking off, leaving Trevor to ponder her words.
Devon remained holed up in his room throughout the day, the weight of his thoughts keeping sleep at bay as night descended upon him.
However, a subtle force seemed to tug at his consciousness, a faint whisper in his mind and a rhythmic throb in his chest.
With narrowed eyes, he directed his gaze to the right, sensing an inexplicable pull drawing him towards that direction, as if it held the answers he sought.
Driven by curiosity, Devon rose from his bed and ventured out of his room, following the persistent sensation that guided him.
It led him to his aunt's door, and without hesitating, he turned the knob and entered the room, unconcerned about what he might find inside or if she was unclothed.
However, to his astonishment, his aunt was nowhere to be seen.
Disregarding that fact, he pressed on and approached a drawer that seemed to draw his attention. With a determined motion, he pulled it open, revealing a box nestled inside.
Lifting the lid, he unveiled its contents—a delicate necklace.
At first glance, the necklace seemed rather unremarkable, as if it had been neglected in a drawer of forgotten trinkets. Its design bore the marks of a bygone era, with a slightly dulled chain and a pendant that looked like a relic from another era.
Nestled within the pendant was a smooth, polished orb that captivated his attention. The orb possessed a milky white hue and emitted a soft, dim glow, as though it held secrets within its depths. The necklace itself showed signs of age and use, as if it had weathered the passage of time.
Curiosity swirled within him as he pondered why he had been drawn to this necklace. After all, he had never been particularly interested in such accessories.
As the door swung open, Eliza entered the room and halted abruptly, her eyes fixated on Devon. Her attention quickly shifted to the necklace he held in his hands, prompting a gasp to escape her lips.
"What are you doing with that?!" she demanded, striding towards him with urgency. "Give it to me!" Eliza reached out, attempting to snatch the necklace from Devon's grip, but he deftly maneuvered it, keeping it out of her reach.
"Give that to me, Devon! How dare you enter my room?! Are you completely disrespectful?!" she shouted, her voice filled with anger and disbelief.
"What significance does the necklace hold, Mother? It doesn't seem like something you would typically keep in your drawer," Devon inquired, his curiosity getting the best of him.
"That's none of your concern!" Eliza retorted dismissively, growing increasingly frustrated with Devon's persistent questioning.
"Please, just talk to me, Mother," Devon urged, his tone softer but determined. "Tell me something, anything. I know you're keeping secrets. I'm aware you hold important information, and the sooner I unravel the truth about my own identity, the sooner I can leave this place. Or is that not what you want?"
Eliza shook her head, persisting in her desire to retrieve the necklace. "Just give it back to me—"
"NO!!!" Devon bawled out in frustration, startling Eliza. "I've had enough of my life becoming my own f*king mystery so if you have any answers, you better spill them out right this f*king instant!" His eyes were bloodshot and intense, enough to compel Eliza to yield.
"It was your Mother's, alright! It belonged to your mother!" Eliza confessed, finally revealing the truth.
Devon's eyes widened as he processed the revelation. "My mother. You knew my mother?"
Eliza took a trembling breath and reluctantly nodded. "Yes, she was a friend."
"A friend? I need more than that," Devon pressed, his voice filled with urgency.
"What you need to understand is that your birth led to her demise, Devon! You're nothing but a curse! You were responsible for what happened to her, just like your family—ruthless monsters! It seems the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Eliza sneered, her expression filled with disgust as she scrutinized Devon.
Eliza's words caught Devon off guard, as he had always known his mother died during childbirth but had never heard anyone explicitly blame him for his mother's death before.
Devon's gaze lowered, his eyes fixating on the necklace in his hands. Its lack of extraordinary beauty or significant monetary value became inconsequential to him at that moment.
What truly mattered was the realization that this necklace had once been his mother's.
The sentimental connection it held filled his heart with warmth. A smile graced his face, not because of the necklace's appearance, but because of the deep emotional meaning it carried.
As Devon made his way towards the door, a question emerged in his mind, causing him to pause and turn towards Eliza. "And what about my grandfather? Do you know what happened to him?"
Eliza released a weary sigh, visibly exhausted by the continuous stream of inquiries. Nonetheless, she pivoted to face Devon and reluctantly responded, "He's at The Haven."