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Miracle
5 years later
18 years old
Black roses. A boney hand pushes up from the ground. A mother weeps in the distance.
I jolt up shaken from my dream. Beads of sweat trickle down my back. I've been having the same dream since I was a child. I’ve never known what it means, and I've given up trying to figure it out.
Wrapping my sheet around me, I pad over to the mini fridge for a bottled water, doing my best not to wake my roommate. Bridgette is a light sleeper. The smallest sound will wake her. I moved out of my parent’s house and into student housing a month ago.
I’m in my freshman year at the University of Kentucky and out on my own for the first time. Growing up adopted I never quite felt as though I fit in with my brothers and sisters. I have two families, but neither really feel like they are mine. My dad, Rebel, is the best man I know. He took me in, him and my mom, Chelle, when they didn’t have to. They could have easily given me over to the state when Romeo abandoned me, but they didn't. They welcomed me with open arms and raised me as their own.
I’ve never wanted for anything. They’ve given me all I could ever dream of and more, except I can’t shake this feeling of not belonging in the world. I don’t know where I am meant to be or what I am supposed to do.
My older sister, Dawn, says it's normal at my age to feel this way. I don’t know, maybe it is. She’s been with the same guy forever, she married Patrick five years ago on a beach. The ceremony was beautiful. I was her maid of honor.
Her and Patrick took things slow, they both went to college and traveled the world before they tied the knot.
I keep waiting for her to make me an aunt, but she says they don’t want kids right now. They are happy with it being just the two of them.
My older brother, Jamie, lives in New York and works for a company designing video games. He’s married to his work. I only see him during holidays.
I see my other siblings, Axel, Harley, and Abel on the weekends when I drive home.
“Morgan, what time is it,” Bridgette groans from her bed. When I was twelve I asked for my name to be changed. My parents were reluctant at first, but they gave in when I told them why.
I didn't want the name Miracle anymore; it didn't feel like mine. I was given that name by a woman I can’t remember and a father who didn't want me.
I even started dying my hair black, it suits me better than my natural blonde locks. I’m trying to find my way and figure out who I am.
I don’t even know who my birth father is. Romeo told me I wasn’t his as much as he wished that I were.
It eats away at me.
I check the clock on my desk, it’s only 4 am. “Sorry, chick, its early, or late depending on how you look at it.” She moans and rolls over with her pillow covering her face.
Opening up my text messages on my phone, I scroll through the ones from Outlaw, that’s my nickname for him. He’s this guy from California, I met him a few weeks ago at the student center. He was registering for the winter semester.
He’s so hot. He has red hair, a gorgeous smile. I thought he might be a bit of a nerd at first because he wears glasses, but then I saw that he's a motorcycle man. So I started calling him Outlaw, because it's funny to me that he looks so innocent at first, but when he climbs on that bike and fires her up, I melt. The bad boy inside him comes to life when he’s on his motorcycle.
I can’t help but love a man on a Harley, I was surrounded by them my whole life.
Outlaw: When can I see you again?
That message has been taunting me for two days. I do want to see him again, but I have this weird hang-up. Bridgette laughs at me, but it isn’t funny. I’m afraid to date. What if I meet a guy and we fall in love and do it, you know, sex and stuff, and later on we get married. Then we have a baby, and then, after all that, we find out he’s related to me or something. I’d die. Bridgette said with him being a ginger head that the chances of him being my relative are slim. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I’m trying to be a believer.
I type out a message.
Morgan: Sure, wanna meet up after the game this weekend?
There’s a football game and Bridgette loves dragging me to them. She loves looking at all the player’s butts in those tight pants.
I mean to save the message for later and accidentally hit send. I smack my palm to my forehead, he’s going to think I am a crazy person sending him a message this late or early, whatever. Oh man, I wanna hide away, now.
My phone pings.
Oh shit, I can’t look.
Peeking through my fingers I see the message is from him.
Damn!
Eek, I kick my feet out and squeal. Bridgette chucks her pillow at me. “Shut up, Morgan!”
“Oops, sorry, sorry.”
I hug my phone to my chest, before reading his text. He might be texting me to tell me to fuck off. My heart sinks to my stomach.
Okay, okay, I take a deep breath and look.
Outlaw: Hey there, gorgeous, a little early, babe. Thought I was going to have to send out a search party. After the game sounds good. Although I want to spank you for making me wait ;)
My thighs squeeze together. Oh my God, did he really say he wanted to spank me!
Morgan: Spank me?
Outlaw: Yeah, take you over my knee and leave my handprint on your ass. I like to mark what’s mine.
I gulp.
Morgan: Who said I was yours?
Outlaw: I knew it the moment I saw you and you did too. So yeah, you’re mine. I’ll be claiming that ass Friday. Be ready. No panties.
Morgan: Who said I’m wearing any now? ;)
To be continued...