“Now tell me, why are you here?” grandpa asked as he took a seat on his chair.

For as long as Michael could remember, grandpa had always used that chair. The chair had never left its position even though it had been over 15 years. The chair had its own authority.

“I have a few questions,” said Michael, “and I need answers.”

He stood at a spot where he could see grandpa clearly. Michael’s hands were tied behind his back as if he was addressing someone of higher power. Then again, that was how grandpa was to him. He saw grandpa touch his belt. For a second, he felt he went back in time; that he had never left at all.

“Answers for what?” asked grandpa.
“What’s my name?” he asked.
Grandpa looked confused. “What an absurd question is this?” he felt his temper rising.

“Just answer my question. What’s my name? My entire name?” Michael asked calmly.
“Are you here to get revenge? Did your school teach you all this?” grandpa had started yelling slightly. Michael stood quietly, listening.

Upon receiving no response from Michael, grandpa said, “Michael Adriel.”
“What’s your name?” Michael asked again.
“Jordan Adriel.”
“Am I really your grandson?”
Grandpa furrowed his eyebrows, forming crease on his forehead, “Yes.”

“Today I learned something new, father,” Michael paused, and continued, “I learned that Adriel is a family name that originated from the very first Adriel on this planet, who coincidentally happens to be the son of Abiel.”

Even in the dim flickering light, Michael could see his grandpa’s face turn grim. Michael continued, “But that can’t be right. Because that would mean that I, Michael Adriel, am the descendant of the great Abiel.”

Grandpa remained quiet, just staring at him from the shadows.
“Am I a descendant of Abiel?” Michael asked as he placed a foot forward.
“Did you purposely hide such an important information form me?” he placed another foot forward.
“Why did you do it? Why did you hide that I have Abiel’s blood flowing in my veins? Or did you want to hide to the entire world, how messed up Abiel’s family has gotten?”

Grandpa watched Michael advancing towards him. He watched Michael remove his jacket, followed by his t-shirt as he said, “Did you want to hide that a blood of Abiel was capable of doing this, to an innocent child till he was of age seventeen!”

Grandpa looked at what he already knew. Michael stood shirtless, his face red with rage as he exposed his upper body that showed off his scars. Scars and bruises that were old and new, black and blue.

**

“Are you sure?” asked Thomas. Anya nodded.

“But he has never mentioned anything,” he said.
“When has he ever said anything about his life back at home? He just quietly listens to what we say,” said Anya.

“Huh,” she heard Thomas say. “What?” she turned to him.

“He may have told me something.”
“What did he say?” Anya was curious.
“Remember that day when he came to talk to me? He was behaving very weirdly. He showed me a side of his, that I had never seen before. That none of us have ever seen.”

Michael's question left Thomas a baffled child. "Not if it tells you to do bad things!”

"But your head talks in terms of logic. Isn't being logical better than being emotional?”

By the look on his face, Thomas realized that Michael was serious. He wasn’t joking or making fun of Thomas.

“Does your head tell you to do bad things Michael?”
“Not bad things. It just talks to me, like you do.”
“But it tells you things you already know, right?”
“It just helps me take decisions,” Michael felt uncomfortable the way the conversation was going. “Stop changing the topic.”

“Alright. Alright,” Thomas decided to drop the subject.

They sat in silence for a few seconds. Michael thought of ways to steer back the conversation about Thomas, while Thomas went over the past few minutes.

“If you are feeling better, or need some alone time, I’ll go,” Michael said, hoping to leave. He has had enough for the day. However, Thomas wasn’t.

“Tell me about your mother, Michael. As a child growing up without a mother, how did you deal with it?”
“To be honest Thomas,” Michael turned towards him, annoyance evident in his tone, “I don’t care about my mother. I don’t care about anyone’s mother. I don’t care about women.”

“Michael!” Thomas was astounded by Michael’s sudden agitated form. His face turned red, a vein on his neck throbbing as he spoke.

“The woman abandoned me when I was three, when I already lacked a father in my life! I am glad I never got to meet her. Womankind, they are pure selfish and do not deserve the anything they are receiving from the idiots of this world!”
Michael punched the bench and walked away, leaving behind an astounded Thomas.

“Michael said that?” Anya couldn’t believe her ears.
“Why do you think we stopped talking after that day? He said some horrible, hurtful things Anya. I can’t forgive him for that.
“Did he say his mother abandoned him? I thought she had died,” Anya looked confused as Thomas nodded.

**

“And you made me feel it was normal in any family for a child to suffer through something like this.”

Michael stood in front of the old man bearing all his scars, though he knew it wouldn’t stir up anything inside him. “I did what I had to do,” grandpa said, not a hint of remorse in his voice.

“You never let me mingle with any other kids. You didn’t let me go to school or talk to other people. I wasn’t your grandson! For seventeen years, I was some boy who lived inside these four walls!” Michael decided to say out loud his hidden frustration.

“Lower your voice Michael. Else you know what’s to come!” his grandpa warned him, loosening his belt buckle.

Michael took a deep breath and said, “Not this time.”

Michael shook his head, “I am not some child who’ll listen and believe everything you tell me.”
“I sent you to that school because Antonio told me he’ll keep an eye on you!”

Michael scoffed, “Sir Antonio was your spy? I did doubt it,” Michael immersed his face in his palm, “Even then I didn’t care.”

“I should have told Antonio the truth. Then he would have been stricter with you.”

“Then I would have told him your truth. How you abused me over the years. How you never considered me as your grandson or even as a child. You could have just killed me!” Michael yelled at the top of his lungs.

And then he fell silent and realization hit him. His eyes wandered on the floor aimlessly as he digested this. He said, “My mother, she tried to kill me, didn’t she?”

Grandpa watched Michael putting two and two together.
“Those weren’t dreams. Those were memories,” Michael mumbled to himself. He turned around and faced his grandpa. “My mother tried to kill me when I was a baby! And she abandoned me because I didn't die. And then you abused me, hitting me with your belt, over the littlest things, over the years… What is wrong with this family?”

Grandpa raised a little finger and pointed at Michael as he spoke, “Your mother didn’t abandon you because you didn’t die. She hung herself because she couldn’t kill you.”