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“And why are you here in Calveron?” I ask when he falls silent again.
“I’ve lived here my whole life.” He says, growing uneasy. “My parents, err… work here.” He hesitates with his answer, and I am instantly curious to know what he is hiding.
“Why the hesitation?” I ask, knowing that I am treading on thin ground, but I’m too inquisitive to care. “What, are your parents important or something?”
“I guess you could say that.” He looks visibly uncomfortable now. The smile is no longer there, instead he is just looking at the floor, fiddling with whatever is in his hand.
“Would I know them?”
“That depends on how bad your memory loss is.” He answers. I wonder how he knew about that, but I don’t want to ask him in case I distract him from the conversation already at hand.
“Who are they?” I ask.
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“What are you so afraid of? Are they really that bad?”
“Some would say.” He laughs but there is no sign of a joke.
“Just tell me,” I say. His unwillingness to tell me is making me more annoyed by the second. I know that he has every right not to tell me, but I don’t understand why he wouldn’t. What’s so bad about a name?
“No.” He stands up, preparing to leave.
“Come on,” I push the plate off my lap and stand up to confront him. “It’s not like a name is going to change anything. Just tell-”
“Albert Cunningham.”
I pause. He didn’t just say that. He stares down at me, and I feel so small standing next to him. His eyes, eyes that are almost identical to his father’s, look down at me with intense regret. He can tell that I’m looking at him differently.
I was completely wrong when I said that a name isn’t going to change anything. Jasper only spoke two words, but now I am certain that him being with me is some kind of set up.
“I see why you didn’t want to tell me,” I attempt a laugh, but it feels strange upon my lips. This is no laughing matter.
Albert Cunningham, the man that I had assumed for years had murdered my mother. The man who I’m sure was the one that spoke to me the first night I was here, pretending to be asleep. The man who the girl in my nightmares is so afraid of. The man who took me away from my family and locked me in here.
Is his father.
It makes sense, really. It’s the perfect tactic on how to get someone to let down their guard. If they won’t talk to you, maybe they will talk to someone their own age, someone like themselves. I wonder if Jasper knows that he is being manipulated; being used as Albert’s pawn to extract information out of me. Of course, he would, he’s probably just as in on this scheme as his father is. He is trying to play me, and I have already gotten too comfortable.
“You need to leave.” I tell him, my voice hardening.
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“Leave, Jasper. NOW.” My voice comes out harsher than expected but I need him to get the message. I don’t want him, or his father, anywhere near me.
“I’m not like him,” his voice is so tender and soft that I want to drown in it. It is filled with so much conviction and courage that some small part inside me, the foolish part that wants to believe the best in people, wants to comfort him. But I look into his eyes and see the eyes of his father. I will not be fooled by his games.
I laugh, except this time it comes out strong and full of sarcasm. “Please,” I say. “I bet you’re exactly like him.” He flinches at my words. I could take them back, but I don’t. Because I mean them. I bet he is just as cruel and vicious as the man who raised him.
I want to see how he reacts to my words. If he were to get defensive, I would immediately assume that it was a part of the act. I would assume the same if he showed weakness and pretended to break down and act distraught over my words.
But how he reacts is something I didn’t anticipate. He smiles. He reaches down and takes my hand, “I’m taking you on a tour.” He says, walking right out the door.
And I have no choice but to follow him.
Chapter 7 - Emerson Clarke
“Welcome to Calveron. Where would you like to go, Jasper Cunningham?” asks the monotone elevator as we step inside.
