by Rina Kent
That’s the same position her army brothers sit in when they’re in town. She’s such a tomboy, and the most adorable thing is that she doesn’t even notice it. When I call her out on it, she thinks I’ve lost my mind.
“Okay, shoot.”
I take a sip of my coffee. “What?”
“Talk to me, mate. I’m all ears.”
“About what?”
“About what you’ve been daydreaming about lately.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Since you moved in with Johnny, you’ve been distant and often get lost in that pretty little head of yours.”
“I have not.”
“You have, too. He’s consuming you, isn’t he?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” I sigh and push the proofs away. I’m not focused enough to do a good job at it anyway, so I might as well stop pretending. “Hey, Lay, can I ask you something?”
“I’m your man. Shoot.”
“I know you’re saving your virginity for marriage, but you know stuff about stuff. Being nosy and all.” Layla’s mum, her aunts, cousins and extended family — which is huge — are really forthcoming about sex, but only with their female friends and family.
I might have had sex before, but Layla knows more about it than I ever will. She’s an encyclopaedia in practically everything.
“First of all, suck my D. Second of all, I’m not nosy. I like to know things so I’m prepared.”
“Okay, fine. So my question is…” I trail off, wetting my lips.
“Any day now.”
“What does it mean if a man only likes oral?”
“He needs Viagra. Wait a second, Johnny needs Viagra? Way to ruin my daddy fantasy. Hey, what do you think his reaction will be if I mail him a pack?”
I burst out laughing. “Don’t do that.”
“Why not? I’m giving the man a boost. If anything, he should thank me.”
“It’s not like that. He does get…you know…hard.”
“Then his performance must be rubbish.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I actually don’t think so either.”
“What do you mean?”
“He seems like the type of man who commands everything, even in the bedroom. Control is his kink.”
She can say that again.
Layla drinks her coffee, seeming deep in thought. “How about you ruin it?”
I pause with the straw halfway to my mouth. “Ruin what?”
“His control. People like Jonathan get off on knowing the result before they even go in, so when you destroy that pattern, they act out, either by showing their ugly side or their hidden side. Both are their true selves.”
“I do defy him. It’s not always ‘yes, sir’ or ‘whatever you wish, sir’.”
“That’s probably not enough to warrant him acting out.”
“How do I know I’ve pushed him enough? He’s so unemotional, it drives me insane.”
“Remember that day when he barged in here to announce that this company was now his property in front of Ethan Steel? That was his reaction to the way you pushed him.”
It was. Jonathan said he’d put me in my place, and he did, ever so savagely.
“So you’re saying Ethan is a key to Jonathan’s ugly or hidden side.”
“Could be. Do you know their history?”
“If I recall correctly, they were best friends who turned into rivals as their respective companies grew simultaneously. Then a few years ago, they fell from each other’s graces. Ethan went into a coma and recently returned to the scene. The entire time, Jonathan has been ruling on his own.”
“That’s common knowledge, but I have the inside scoop.” She grins like a Cheshire cat.
“Inside scoop?”
“My friend’s cousin used to work in the Steel mansion in Birmingham — you know, his main residence aside from the one in London. Anyway, while you were targeting Ethan, I asked around about his history, and apparently, Jonathan caused the death of Ethan’s wife. Some even say it was an affair, but no one confirms that.”
“Oh my God.”
“I know, right? Why would she want Jonathan when she has Ethan? Sister didn’t know what she had.”
“Lay, be serious.”
“I am. Ethan is better looking than Jonathan, and he doesn’t have Bastard written in bold letters on his forehead.”
Ethan is handsome, but he doesn’t have the lethal edge Jonathan does. His eyes aren’t a storm brewing in the distance, threatening to take everyone hostage.
I shake my head. Did I just defend Jonathan? That’s not allowed, even in my mind.
“Anyway, Ethan is Daddy in another universe.”
“Lay!”
“What? You get your daddy. Why can’t I fantasise about mine?”
“Bugger off, you twat.”
“Fine, fine. Live the daddy fantasy for both of us.”
“I’m not!”
She stands up, but before leaving, she cups her mouth with both hands and whispers, “Daddy.”
I throw a pen after her and her throaty laughter echoes down the hall.
Shaking my head, I focus back on the design I was working on. Something about it is bugging me, but I can’t put my finger on it.
My hand finds my watch and a sense of calm engulfs me. Alicia’s memory has always calmed me down and filled me with so much inspiration.
There’s a knock on the door, and I expect Layla to be back for more taunts, but then I recall she doesn’t knock. And neither do I.
We haven’t had any boundaries since we met at uni — aside from the past that I’m shielding her away from.
Jessica, my assistant, appears at the threshold. She’s petite with dark brown skin and huge, striking eyes. “Ms Harper, there’s someone here to see you.”
“I thought I didn’t have any appointments until this afternoon.”
“Yes, but he said it’s urgent. He’s a solicitor.”
“Let him in.” Could this be another one of Jonathan’s games?
Jessica disappears. Soon after, a middle-aged man with dark brown hair and pale hazel eyes appears at my door. I stand and take his hand as he offers a handshake.
“Aurora Harper. How may I help you?”
“Stephan Wayne. I’m Maxim Griffin’s solicitor.”
I retrieve my hand from his at supersonic speed, as if I’ve been hit by lightning. My breathing catches; it takes everything in me not to collapse or run and hide.
“How…how did you find me?”
“It wasn’t an easy thing to do, but blood speaks, Ms Griffin.”
“My name is Aurora Harper.”
“Why, yes.” His expression remains unchanged as he motions at the sofa. “Aren’t you going to offer me a seat?”
“Get out of my office. Now.”
“That’s very unfortunate, Ms Harper. I was hoping to get you on the witness stand for Mr Griffin’s parole hearing.”
This time, I stumble backwards. I nearly fall on the sofa but manage to hold myself up at the last minute. My legs shake so prominently, I can’t contain my stance or my emotions.
My worst nightmare rushes to the forefront of my mind, as if it’s been lurking right beneath the surface all along.
Vacant Eyes.
Blood.
Duct tape.
The look of absolute desolation.
No. Not again. No.
“He’s not eligible for parole.” My voice is barely audible.
“The judge changed his mind for exemplary behaviour.”
This can’t be true.
This is a nightmare.
My heart beats loud and fast. I’m that girl running in the forest, my breathing constricted, my lungs suffocating, my head about to snap from the pain.
He’s coming.
He’s there.
They are also there.
“Ms Harper.”
My head snaps up to meet the solicitor’s gaze.
“Are you sure you
won’t change your mind? If you tell the judge you were young and confused —”
“I wasn’t young and confused. I saw a monster for who he is and acted on it. Now, leave my office and never return again.” My throat hurts from the force of my words. “You should be ashamed for defending a man like him. Those women could’ve been your daughter, your wife, your sister.”
Stephan’s expression doesn’t change as he reaches into his jacket and retrieves an envelope and a business card. When I don’t take them, he places them on the table. “Call me if you change your mind.”
As soon as he leaves, I drop onto the sofa, my hands and legs trembling, sweat running down my back and temples.
My heart aches and I feel like I’m about to combust.
I pull my knees to my chest as memories start trickling back in. The attacks. The slurs.
The assault.
No. Please no.
The envelope stares at me. I know who it’s from. I contemplate burning it, throwing it away, but the need to solve the puzzle strikes me again.
And this time, I can’t ignore it.
I open it with unsteady fingers. Plain white paper with his messy handwriting taunts me.
Remember Muse,
Next time we see each other, either I kill you or you kill me.
20
Aurora
I leave work early.
But I don’t go to Jonathan’s house.
In fact, for a second, I contemplate driving my car to someplace else.
I could go to Wales. Or Scotland.
If that’s still too close, I can go to another country. Pick a place on the map and fly over there.
I can start anew. If I’ve already had one rebirth, I can have another, right?
Only, I can’t leave H&H and Layla and everyone else behind.
I can’t abandon the dream I started with my own hands. I can’t keep running for the rest of my life.
When I walked out of the court hearing that day, I promised he’d never be the master of my life again.
He won’t control my every breath as if he has a right to. As if he owns my life just because he gave it to me.
Every time someone looks at me, I breathe wrong. I watch my surroundings as if expecting the eggs, the slurs, the assault.
“The devil’s spawn.”
“Her father’s daughter.”
“Murderer! Murderer! MURDERER!”
I hit the brakes and place both hands on my ears as if that will stop the voices from screaming louder in my head.
My breathing is non-existent. My heartbeat escalates like a heavy weight is perched on my chest.
No.
No one will find me. They can’t.
Just because the solicitor did, doesn’t mean my past will come rushing back in.
It takes me several minutes to compose myself and drive to my flat. All the way there, I watch the rear-view mirror and over my shoulder, imagining a hand coming out of nowhere.
By the time I reach the reception area, I’m a hot mess of screwed up nerves. My head is crowded with the screams and the cries of the victims’ families, and the way they asked me why.
I didn’t even know myself. How could I answer them?
“Ms Harper.” Paul in reception intercepts me, lowering the volume of the TV.
I come to a halt and plaster on a smile. “Hey, Paul. How are you?”
“Good. Have you moved out?”
“Yes, temporarily. I’m keeping the lease, though.”
“I…see.” He tips his lips up, but I don’t miss the pause. “There’s a new package for you.”
My heartbeat skyrockets with something a lot different than the reason behind the solicitor’s visit.
Alicia’s voice message.
“Where is it?”
Paul retrieves a small box from under the counter like the other time.
I take it with a slight smile. “I’ll drop by to check my mail, but can you call me whenever I get any others?”
“Definitely, Miss.”
“Thank you so much, Paul.” I motion at the empty sofa in an awkward attempt to make conversation. “No Shelby today?”
“He’s not feeling well.” His cockney accent is thicker than usual as he slides his gaze back to the Premier League football game on TV.
I thank him again and count the minutes until I’m in my flat. As soon as I’m inside, I shrug off my jacket, kick my shoes away, and run to my TV. I plug the flash drive in and press Play.
Like the other time, there’s silence at the beginning before Alicia’s voice trickles in.
“I lied to you, Claire, and I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have, but I thought I was protecting you. I thought the only way to protect you was to keep you in the dark. Maybe that wasn’t my brightest decision, but I want you to know how much it pains me to have one hair on your head hurt. I hope you forgive me for what I’m about to confess.”
Her voice goes dead.
I skip ahead, but just like the other time, the recording is over.
Damn it.
It’s like whoever sent this is playing a distasteful joke on me.
I slump in front of my TV, the screen blank, and pull my knees to my chest.
What could she have meant about keeping me in the dark? Was it about the devil we both knew? Though Alicia hardly met him. She usually came to me at school, not at home.
Or is this about something else?
I honestly don’t know anymore. I’m too emotionally drained and exhausted to gather any logical thought.
My limbs shake as I recall the solicitor’s visit. Parole. He said fucking parole.
Surely he can’t get paroled after only eleven years.
The dark cloud hovers over me and my fingers quiver as I pull my knees to my chest, grip my trousers, and remain in place like a statue.
That’s what I did that day.
I wasn’t sitting, but I was a statue.
You see, my love for puzzles was my damnation. I shouldn’t have gone to the forest that day. I shouldn’t have tried to figure out Dad’s puzzle.
But I did.
I wore my hoodie, took my bike, and followed close behind, a bit like a detective. I felt so smug at the time, thinking I was Sherlock Holmes or something.
Thinking Dad wouldn’t win this time.
He always said I was an extension of him, and because of that, he could read me better than anyone else.
I was going to prove that I could read him, too.
Or so I thought.
Past
Dad’s truck slows to a halt behind a small cottage. Hmph. He thought he could come here without me right after the business trip he took this morning. Well, he has a surprise waiting for him.
It isn’t the first time I’ve come here. This is where he keeps his tools.
Dad’s a hunter and a mechanic. He likes tools.
Tomorrow, we’ll go hunt again. I don’t really like it when the rabbits and deer die, but I like the stalking, the chase, and the rush of adrenaline.
Daddy says I need to perfect my hunting methods so that I can hit the target like he does.
After all, Daddy is the best hunter alive.
The door of his truck opens and he gets out. I smile with mischief as I hide with my bike behind a tree.
Daddy is a big man with broad shoulders and long legs. He has blond hair and a beard and blue eyes so deep, they’re mesmerising. All the women in town gush after my daddy.
But he’s never wanted to bring me a mum. He decided early on it was only going to be the two of us.
We do everything together. We run and hunt and solve puzzles. We cook together and even go to the local festivals side by side.
I never knew my mother, and Alicia doesn’t visit often. Daddy is my world, and as he always says, I’ll grow up to make him proud.
Dad puts on his baseball cap and rounds the truck, then goes inside the cottage.
Maybe he’s having fun without me. How dare he? I don
’t have fun without him. Well, except when Alicia is in town. She doesn’t like to come home with me. I think she still hates Daddy from when he followed us to London on her wedding day and yanked me away. She never comes home with me and tells me not to mention I visited.
I hate keeping things from Daddy, but I’m cool if it’s for Alicia.
I leave my bike behind the tree and inch closer to the cottage by using the trees as camouflage. By the time I’m a few metres away, Dad re-emerges.
But he’s not alone.
A limp woman lies at his feet as he drags her out. At first, I don’t understand what I’m seeing. Dad and a woman.
I mean, I know Daddy is popular with women and goes on some dates, but he never introduces them to me. Why would he bring them to the cottage that’s supposed to be our basecamp?
It’s when he drags her across the harsh ground and her head lolls that I catch a glimpse of the woman’s side view. Her head is all strapped with silver duct tape except for the eyes, which are bulging, bloodshot, and vacant. They’re looking at me, but they’re seeing straight through me. Her arms are limp and a trail of blood trickles down her body, soaking the hem of her dirty pink dress.
I gasp and quickly cover my mouth with both hands. Dad stops and spins around, planting his shovel in the ground.
For a moment, I think he sees me. I think he’ll come over and catch me.
I remain frozen in place, not making a sound. I don’t even breathe, but I can’t control the tears that slide down my cheeks and moisten my fingers.
The face of the man I call Daddy every day is the same. His features are the same, those deep blue eyes and that blond beard. Everything I see is Dad.
And yet…he isn’t.
And yet…he’s dragging the body of a dead woman. I want to go there and scream, ask why, demand he explain, but I can’t move, let alone go to him.
I remain planted behind the tree as I stare at the man I call Daddy. My father. My only family.
Instead, there’s a devil in his place.
Dad whirls around, and the woman’s head hits the ground, her hand lifelessly sliding behind her.
I think I’m going to throw up.
As soon as he’s out of view, I run back towards my bike. I trip, fall, and stand up again. My knee stings and hot liquid trickles down my shin. My heart is about to beat free of its confinements, but I don’t stop until I’m on the bike.
