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Mother caught me with the gun, and she was crazy mad. Madder than I’ve ever seen Father get. She didn’t hit me though. She said ‘wait until your father gets home’. But when he got home he just laughed, took me outside and said ‘show me what you can do then’.
He seemed impressed.
My Mother sent me to bed, and they spent hours screaming at each other until the gun went off and everything turned silent.
I feel rough the next morning but, thankfully, I’m woken by the door slamming closed, meaning that Kaiden’s father has been summoned to a business meeting by my father. It’s the only explanation for him being up and out so early. With him gone, it gives me ample opportunity to look around, then sneak back to my father’s house for a change of clothes before I confront him.
I slip out of the bed, my body groaning in protest as I stand up, and head towards the door. I probably should have taken some pain relief last night, but hindsight’s a bitch. Or is it karma? Doesn’t matter.
Pausing for a moment, I listen for any signs of movement, but the house is eerily silent. Fleetingly, I wonder where Kaiden’s mum is, but quickly shrug it off. It’s not like I care. She’s been as fucking absent in Kaiden’s life as my own mother was before herdisappearance, so I have no sympathy to spare.
With a small sigh, I make my way down the hallway, my feet padding softly against the wooden floor despite my dress shoes. It’s a matter of pride to always be impeccably presented, and a matter of survival to move silently, even in formal attire.
As I reach Mr Montgomery’s home office, I pause. This room is much more opulent and better cared for than the rest of the house with expensive artwork on the walls, elegant furnishings, and a large well-kept fireplace dominating one wall, but it’s unsurprising to me, because my father demands the highest standards of work from everyone within his circle. What Mr Montgomery chooses to do with the rest of his home is of no concern to my father. Evidently, because the place is one step up from being a slum.
Finally, my gaze settles on a small, wooden cabinet in the corner of the room. My heart thumps steadily as I move towards it, my hands steady as a rock as I check the handle. Locked. I search the desk for the key needed to gain access to the cabinet, but it’s not there. Knowing Mr Montgomery is a drunk, and a liability at best, it’s likely he’ll have stashed the keys somewhere nearby because he’s prone to losing things.
His temper being the main one.
It takes all of two minutes to locate the small golden key – hidden above the picture frame of a hideous piece of art gifted to him by my father. It’s a fake. All my father’s gifts are. He’s not atrue believer in redistributing his wealth, even amongst ‘friends’. No, the original of this particular painting is stashed inside one of my father’s impenetrable vaults.
Finally, the door clicks open, and I peer in. My spirits rise at what’s inside – a safe – which takes me all of thirty seconds to open because the code is Kaiden’s father’s birthday. Village idiot. Within the safe, there’s stacks of papers and files, all neatly organised and meticulously labelled. A wave of triumph washes over me. This is exactly what I’ve been looking for, just what I was hoping to find.
Grabbing a stack of files, I pull them out and take a seat at the desk, knowing that Mr Montgomery will be having ‘breakfast’ at my father’s favourite restaurant for several hours. All thoughts of going home and changing my clothes so that I can confront my father are gone. I’m bound to discover more here.
One file in particular catches my eye. It’s labelled “Confidential” in bold, red letters. Flipping open the file, I’m immediately greeted by a series of explicit photos depicting people engaged in various sexual acts – some with a woman or women in a metal box. I know the box only too well, but my stomach drops and churns when I realise that the woman in the picturescouldbe Odi. Fuck. My heart races as I continue to flip through the pages, the images becoming more and more graphic until I have to stop.
I feel sick.
It’s one thing to be forced to take part in my father’s sick depravities, another to have to witness the evidence that proves I did so.
This is insurance.
And I highly doubt it’s my father’s only copy. But I don’t care about that. I just need to know if Odi is in these pictures. As I flip through the remaining pictures, I sigh in a strange sort of almost-relief. I’m relieved because I can’t identify Odi in theseimages, but sickened because I know she was still subjected to the same horrors as the women who are in the photos.
However, there’s nothing to obviously identify Odi – no signs of my brand or the scarring from where The General tried to remove it – so I put that file to one side and flick through some others.
My eyes widen in disbelief and then narrow in anger. There are lists of names, dates, and locations. It’s as if someone has been keeping track of everyone’s movements and activities. Including mine, my brothers’ and Odi’s. Details about the teacher and her pregnancy are listed and I feel sick with relief when I realise that the dates don’t match up. I wasneverthat baby’s dad. So what the fuck was my father thinking?
A sense of unease creeps up inside me as I flip open Odi’s file. I have a feeling that I’m not going to like the contents, but that it could be just what I need to finally start getting answers about her.
As I flip open the ile, I notice a note scrawled across the bottom of the page. “Do what you will with this information,” it reads. It’s not my father’s handwriting, that’s for sure. Nor is it Kaiden’s or Zie’s father’s. Interesting.
If I had to guess, I’d say the writing looks almost feminine.
The first document is a copy of Odi’s birth certificate. I scan over the details, but nothing seems amiss – aside from it being in Kaiden’s father’s safe.
But when the second document turns out to be a second copy of Odi’s birth certificate, I examine the two more closely. The signature is a little off. The emblem is a little blurry. The serial numbers don’t line up, even though they match. Like the paintings on the walls surrounding me, this is a forgery.
Why? Why does my father – because at this point I’m sure my father has given these documents to Mr Montgomery for safekeeping – have a forged copy of Odi’s birth certificate?
I don’t understand it. There’s too many questions, too many mysteries. And Odi appears to be at the heart of all of them.
The rest of her file makes my heart stop. Photos I can’t stomach. Detailed accounts of her comings and goings. Her school transfer papers. Pregnancy notes. Admission forms for a ‘school’ in fucking Switzerland…
I have to stop. The papers are clenched tight in my fist.
“Fuck!” I roar. In my rage, I sweep the papers off the desk and I’m a split second away from smashing the entire room up when I’m halted by my phone ringing.
