I honestly felt like I was going to be sick.

Normally with negative situations, I would tell myself to remain calm and that I would figure out how to handle them eventually - but this...! This was one of the few times where I felt absolutely helpless. I had no clue how I was supposed to move forward, knowing that I had essentially suffered from Stockholm Syndrome for most of my life. I mean, I suppose I did have options but I wasn't sure if any of them would work out:

1. I couldn't bring myself to confront Michael, because I knew that if I did - he'd tell me that I was overreacting and to let it go.

2. I couldn't talk to Amanda, Tracey and Jimmy - because that would risk another screaming match with Michael and that was the last thing I wanted.

3. I couldn't talk to Franklin or Lester - because I had just met them and plus, my situation would get in the way.

Apart from those ideas, I didn't know what else to do.

On the bright side, though - I was thankful that the pain in my stomach had faded, which led to me presuming that I wasn't going to be sick after all. Oh, thank god for that. With that in mind, I decided to sit down on the steps outside the factory and tried to take deep breaths to calm down - whilst reassuring myself that I would be able to move on someday. Everything's gonna be okay, Ryan - you're gonna be fine. Just get the heist over and done with, and we'll go from there. Take each day as it comes, like you've done so already - it's all good...!

"Hey, I'm back," Michael's pleased voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Oh, damn you!

"Hey," I greeted as politely as I could muster, pulling myself up to my feet. Don't you dare humiliate yourself, Ryan. "Did you guys come up with a plan for the heist?"

"Y'know as a matter of fact, we did," He confirmed in a pleased manner, venturing for his car and climbing in. "C'mon, I'll tell you on the way home,"

"Okay," I replied, following suit. Once he started it up and began driving, he continued speaking. "Just to be clear - this is the only heist you're doing, right?"

"That's what I'm planning, yes," I answered, frowning. "Why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to make sure," My adopted father told me, visibly relieved. What's going on with you? "Anyway, the plan Lester and I came up with is actually quite simple. We're gonna throw some gas grenades in the ventilator, so everyone will get to have a little nap. Once that happens, that's our cue to head in and grab all the jewellery we can get,"

Hearing this, I slowly nodded with intrigue. Okay, not what I was expecting - but still, that sounds smart. "Okay, may I ask what my part is?"

"You just have to grab as much jewellery as you can, that's it," Michael explained. "Easy and you don't have to worry about fighting any cops," Thanks for reminding me that I need to take up boxing lessons again.

"I see," I responded, suddenly realising that my anxiety over Trevor was flashing again ... and my adoptive father noticed. Oh no, no, no, no, no, no!

"Is there something on your mind, Ryan?" He questioned worriedly.

I sighed. Right, it's better to be upfront. Here goes Option 1. "Yeah. I, um, I'm not sure how to say this, but...!" A nervous gulp. "But when you and Lester were talking about a He and a She earlier, was that referring to Trevor and myself?"

Michael glowered with surprise. "Er, w-w-where did you get that idea from?"

"The way you've treated me for the past nine years, how you faked your death with that FIB agent and how you dampen Trevor's image," I revealed honestly. "Which leads to my next two questions. Is Trevor alive and if he is, why did you take me away from him and my Mom?"

For several seconds, a horrified grimace painted the man's face. I got him. I didn't hesitate to calmly prompt him. "I don't want this to turn into a fight - so whatever it is, just tell me," He just kept silent, which didn't help calm my anxiety. "Please,"

Tell me the truth...! Please, for the love of god, be honest with me!

My adoptive father finally broke the silence. "Ryan, you've been under a lot of stress recently," A sad and mildly irritated sigh. "I know you wish things were different and I wish they were different, too - but they're not, okay? Do you have any more questions?"

"No," I confirmed cautiously, flashing an apologetic yet fearful glance. "Sorry,"

"It's alright," He reassured me with a smile, feeling more at ease. "By the way, we're planning for the heist to go ahead first thing, tomorrow - just so you know,"

"Okay, no problem,"

Whilst Michael continued driving, I turned my head to glance out my window and watch the city whizz by. Despite what he told me, I was still suspicious - judging from the horrified look I managed to catch and... looking back, I actually wish I had the confidence to stand up to him and continue asking about what happened, nine years back. Yes, that would have risked a fight - but at least, I probably would have gotten the truth out of him a lot sooner.

Maybe things would have turned out differently, if I did?