Something felt wrong the moment I woke up that morning. Although there was nothing in particular that gave it away, part of me simply knew. It was a gut feeling. Everything was in place but the shadows-the shadows stretched across the walls in long grey shape cast by the morning light, seemingly ordinary. Maybe they were, however, I was not convinced. With great effort I rose warily out of bed and made my way downstairs to the kitchen hoping breakfast would calm my increasing nerves.
Mum was already in the kitchen when I came downstairs. She stood at the counter with her back to me, stirring her coffee in slow circles. Dad sat at the table reading the newspaper. Neither of them looked up when I entered; in fact, they seemed incredibly calm. For a moment, all I could hear was the spoon scraping against the mug, round and round. Mum turners, “Morning Sweetie,” she said whilst smiling. It was the same smile she’d given me every morning for as long as I could remember. Maybe that’s why it unsettled me; it felt rehearsed, as if she had practised it. As if she had known I would be coming down those stairs at that precise moment. “Big maths test today right?” she continued. As I mumbled out a response, she glanced at dad, just for a second. Most people wouldn’t have noticed but I certainly did. It was the kind of look people gave when they’re remembering their lines, playing their roles. I now began watching very intently, wondering who these imposters who claimed to be my parents were and more importantly why?
“Stop it,” the words came out quieter than I intended. Mum looked up slowly from the sink whilst Dad lowered his phone. “Stop what?” she asked, flashing me that smile, the one that followed me through every morning, every afternoon, every night for years. “Stop pretending!” They exchanged a quizzical glance-almost unnoticeable. But I saw it, I always saw it. Suddenly something inside me snapped. Perhaps it was the stress of the situation or something else entirely. “There, you keep doing that thinking I don’t notice!” I roared. Dad stood up nervously, looking at me as if I were a stranger to him. I angrily stood up causing my chair to violently crash backwards. Mum grabbed my arm begging me to “calm down.” Even her concern sounded rehearsed. “I said GET OFF ME,” I screamed, ripping my arm away. I began breathing heavily and the world appeared to be spinning and the ringing in my ears grew louder. I could feel dad holding me close to him, pleading with me to calm down whilst mum began sobbing uncontrollably. Eventually, the fight left me and I lay there breathing heavily wondering where the hell this outburst had come from. I needed one last bit of confirmation. I turned to mum and asked “Are you for real?” Her sincere nod told me everything. I was the problem all along…