Nature or Nurture

With teenagers, people always ask, "Is it Nature or Nurture?" In other words, if some really terrible people give birth to a baby girl and she gets adopted by some wonderful parents, will she grow to be a wonderful teenager or will she still be a terrible teenager because of her Biological parents? I wonder about that because it's basically my story. I don't remember anything about my Biological parents. My adopted parents raised me since I was a baby, and they are the nicest people in the world. They gave me a happy life and supported me in everything. When it came time to tell me I was adopted, they did, but they were vague about the details. They were pretty sure my mother was dead. She doesn't seem to have survived giving birth to me. When I asked about my father, they implied that nobody knew who he was.

Well, I guess I was satisfied with that because my adopted parents were such loving people, but then something happened on my thirteenth birthday. It was a wonderful day. My parents gave me a beautiful party with cake, all my friends and some of my relatives too, But after it was over, I went to bed, and I couldn't sleep. I felt strange. At first, I thought it was too much cake, but then I heard someone walking towards my room.

The door opened.

A man entered.

He was a tall man with dark hair. He was dressed sharply in a suit, tie, and leather shoes. He was also wearing dark sunglasses which was strange since it was the middle of the night, but well, he was definitely handsome.

"Hello there," he said in a voice that was very calm and reassuring.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my room?"

The man smiled. "I came here to wish my daughter a Happy Birthday."

"What?" I was stunned.

"You knew that you were adopted, right?"

"Yes, but. . .You're my father? I don't believe it!"

"Really? Well then why don't you just take off that nightgown?"

"What? No way!"

"Oh fine. Just roll it up. There's a birthmark on your left thigh."

Well, somehow I couldn't disobey him. I rolled up my gown just enough to show him my thigh and of course he was right.

"That's my girl!" he smiled. "Look at that birthmark. Ever notice how it almost looks like a three-digit number." I hadn't.

"Okay, even if you are m father, how did you get into this house?"

"Ah. Well. Let's just say that I'm not like most fathers. I have ways of doing things." As if to dmonstrate this, he made a motion with his hand and seemed to pull a cigarette out of thin air.Then he tapped it a few times and it just lit by itself. He put it in his mouth and took a long drag. "Ah! That's good!" Then he took it from his mouth and offered to me.

"I'm not allowed to smoke cigarettes."

"This isn't exactly a cigarette." He laughed when he said it.

I didn't know what to do. My adopted parents had always told me to say, "No" when someone offered me something like this, but I couldn't say, "No" to this man. So I took it, put it in my mouth and inhaled. I didn't like it and I don't think it was just the smoke. There was something in there that was sucking something else from my body.

"That's good!" said my father. "I was afraid it was too late."

"Too late for what?"

"Well, your stepparents have turned you into this sweet, boring, girl. I was afraid that you would be too sweet and boring to be my daugher. And that would be the worse for you, because I am a person of quite some importance. Being my daugter has quite a few benefits."

"What sort of benefits?"

"You'll find out soon enough. In the meantime, call for your father if you need my help." Then he walked out of the room and seemed to disappear.

Well, the next few days got kind of crazy. I changed and I don't know why. I didn't do my homework on Monday night. So on Tuesday, my teacher, Mrs. Davis, was shocked. "Sandy, you always do your homework."

Then, I called Mrs. Davis a word that starts with B. And the entire class laughed. Mrs. Davis sent me to the principal's office and the principal, Mr. Wilks said, "What's wrong with you, Sandy?"

Actually, I was wondering about it myself. Normally, I loved all my teachers and Mr. Wilks too. In fact, I wanted to break down and cry and maybe say to Mr. Wilks something like, "I'm really sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. Could you please help me somehow?" But it just wouldn't happen. Instead of crying, I pouted and said, "Fuck Off!" to Mr. Wilks.

So Mr. Wilks assigned me to three days detention.

The rest of that day was well. . .It was kind of cool. . . and miserable at the same time. You see, all through my other classes I heard people whispering behind my back. "That's the girl who called Mrs. Davis a bitch!" And in a way I felt embarrassed, but I also liked having people talk about me.

Detention brought on a surprise. You see it turned out that it was Mr. Walker's turn to supervise detention. Mr. Walker is my Science teacher and he is my absolute favorite of all my teachers. He naturally looked shocked to see me.

"Sandy? What on Earth are you doing here?"

"You haven't heard?"

"Some rumors. But what happened exactly?"

And then, for some reason, I decided to tell him everything. I don't just mean everything that had happened that day, but everything that had happened since my thirteenth birthday including how I had met my father.

By the time I was done, he had a disturbed look on his face. "Sandy, this is a little hard to believe."

I shrugged.

"Er. . .That birthmark you mentioned. Could I see it?"

"What? I'd have to take off my pants"

"I know, and I wouldn't ask if there were any other students in detention today. But you and I are alone." He gave me a friendly pat on the head. "Nobody has to find out."

I might not have done it for anyone else, but for Mr. Walker, I decided to unzip my fly and pull down my jeans.

He put his hand on my left thigh as if to see it better. "Hmm. It does look kind of like a three digit number. A 666 to be exact."

After a minute, I got the feeling that he was less interested in looking at the birthmark and more interested in stroking my thigh. "Um. ..Can I put my pants back on now?"

"Oh don't be so modest. You know I won't hurt you-"

Just then, there was a loud crash. I was startled and saw that my father was standing there in the room. Still wearing his suit, leather shoes, and sunglasses.

"Excuse me sir," he said, "but I will thank you not to handle my daughter that way."

Then, he kicked off his leather shoes and I saw that instead of feet, he had hooves like a goat. He pulled off his jacket and I saw black wings sprouting from his back. He removed his sunglasses and I saw that he had yellow eyes with slits for pupils like a cat. Stranger still, there were two horns growing out of his head.

He picked up Mr. Walker with one hand and yelled, "I said not to touch my daughter that way!' Then he tossed Mr. Walker into a corner.

I was scared, but somehow I knew that he wouldn't hurt me. I was right. He turned back to me and smiled. But not a pleasant smile. More like a leer. "I told you before, Sandy," he laughed, "being my daughter has many benefits."

Then he disappeared as suddenly as he had come.

So now, I think about how I'm not the same little girl that I was and how I'm probably going to become an even different person in the next few years and that makes me wonder:

Will I become that person because of nature or nurture?

1,395 words



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