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Instead, he just laughs, “Standing is no great act of defiance, Emerson. If you want to scare me, try a little harder, would you?” He gestures to the seat, and I sit.
Mission failed.
We all fall into an uncomfortable silence. After a long while, Albert finally clears his throat and says, “I hear you were in the medical ward, Emerson. Have you recovered?” I know he only says it for the sole purpose of making small talk.
He probably realises that soon, things are going to get heated, and he wants to get formalities out of the way. I get the sense that this is how our ‘conversations’ usually started. If you can even call them that.
The thought of a younger, more fearful, and less experienced me sitting here having to go through this sends anger rushing through my veins. I am a bomb. A single touch, a single button pressed, and I will explode. I will tear through everything that gets in my way, merciless and causing timeless destruction. I try to detonate the bomb that is working its way up my throat as I smile and answer his useless, boring, aimless question.
I am not one for small talk, but at least it’s something I can fake.
“Yes, I am fine now, thank you so much for genuinely caring about my well-being.” I put on a million-dollar smile and my most sarcastic sweet voice. My hands may be nervously drumming on my leg, but at least I can keep the anger in my voice in check while I speak to him.
He doesn’t believe my words, the sceptic gleam in his eyes tells me that much. He knows that I hate this. But at least he knows that I am different from the little girl he once knew. He’s not the only one who knows how to fake politeness while staring daggers straight into my heart. He knows now that I don’t need to be holding a dagger to him to show how much I hate him. I can do it from across the room.
“I am glad to know that you are well,” he replies with almost as much insincerity as the question was asked with. “Now Jasper-” Mr. Cunningham’s attention focuses on him for the first time since he caught us on the stairs. “What do you think you are doing, wanting to bring her here? I entrusted you with a job, and this was not part of the deal.”
So, there was a deal. My eyes pass over Jasper’s quick enough to see regret fall across his face. Regret for bringing me here, or regret in me finding out that there was a deal going on between them, I can’t be sure. But I am going to make sure I find out.
“What deal?” I ask accusingly. I aim my question at Jasper because I know that he will answer more truthfully than his dad. At least that’s what I hope.
“Nice to see you too Dad,” Jasper says, ignoring my question. That in itself would lead me to believe that he knows that he is being used, maybe that he even chose to be a part of it. Although he sends me a look of urgency that I can’t ignore. I’m not one to rely on looks alone, but somehow, I understand what he’s trying to tell me like we’re communicating in a secret language that only we know.
I’m sorry, his look tells me, but I can’t explain this now.
I hate that I am satisfied with that answer.
“Firstly, Emerson, that is none of your business. Secondly, how dare you, Jasper. Have I taught you nothing?” I see Jasper almost let out a small laugh, but Albert’s eyes are so cold that it gets frozen before it escapes him. I know that look that Albert is giving his son.
It’s the disapproving look of pure evil that I have learnt to hate so desperately. The look that can pierce through your soul and worm its way into the deepest parts of your mind. The look that appears in your nightmares. When you are alone in the dark. When you can’t sleep; it haunts you.
Jasper, however, doesn’t seem as intimidated as I was all those years ago. He frowns mid-laugh and glares back at his dad with the exact same intensity. I swear I can hear the fizz of electricity flying across the room from the power of their gazes. But if that was real, I would be burnt toast.
After a few moments, Mr. Cunningham breaks the hollow silence by picking up a file, “Emerson is clearly influencing you poorly. I would tell you that you need to stop seeing her, but that would ruin this whole arrangement, wouldn’t it?” He sends me a look like he knows his words are tearing me apart with curiosity. “Go and give this to your mum. She should be in her office otherwise give her a buzz and say it’s from me. She’ll know what it is.”
“But-” Jasper gets another one of the looks from his father and stops only this time he doesn’t stare back. Instead, he sends me a sympathetic look and I try to give him a confident I’ve-got-this-all-figured-out smile, but I know he sees right through me. Annoyingly, he seems to be doing that a lot.
Jasper grabs the paper off the desk and rushes out of the room without a second glance. I try to sneak a look at the paper, but all I see is Confidential- in red ink sprawled across the face of the paper.
Of course, he would give a confidential paper to a kid. I want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Either he has enough trust in Jasper because of this little ‘arrangement’ thing, or he has enough trust in his own power that Jasper is too fearful to be curious. The more I wonder, the more I think that both might be wrong, and Albert just might not know his son well enough to assume him doing anything of the sort.
I hope Jasper looks at it just out of spite for his father.
“Err… boss-” a familiar voice snaps me back into reality. I remember that voice, calm and encouraging. It is nothing like all of the other voices that I remember from this place.
“Travis?” I query. It’s the man from my nightmares that told Albert to let me go. I don’t know where the name came from, but it sounds natural, so I roll with it.
The man’s weathered face lights up, “Emerson Kay! Well, well, well, long time no see. Come here, I’ve missed you,” Disregarding every precaution that I should have in place to shield myself from affection, I run over to embrace him. “Haven’t you grown, my little miss? How old are you now, 24? 32?”
I laugh, “Very funny Travis. I’m 16, and yes, I’ve missed you too.” I remember him more clearly now. Travis Jones. I look into his pale blue eyes and feel myself falling. This time I don’t resist it. These nightmares give me a glimpse into a past life I don’t remember, and so now I am determined to grasp at any lead that can show me more information about that missing year of my life.
* * *
‘Shadows run along the long white corridor. The pictures on either side show a bloodshot sky, along with a bright moon, illuminating the shadow of a middle-aged man.
“Hurry, we don’t have much time,” Travis whispers as he turns the latch and opens the heavily bolted door. At once, the young girl, me, emerges from inside the door. She looks tired, distraught, and scratches are covering every inch of her body. Her face in particular, has a deep cut running down the left side of it. Blood is pouring from the cut, leaving a pool beneath her weary body. It’s the Cuffs, I think with a gasp of horror. I knew that it was familiar. I knew that I had been there before.
The young me gasps and struggles for air like she has just finished sprinting a triathlon. “Thanks… Travis-” she says between gasps of air. “I need to get out of here. Help me,” she asks pleadingly. The pair stand in silence for a minute until Travis’ sighs heavily.
