Chapter One
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I wake up to the blaring sound of my alarm clock, leaving a penetrating headache to start over my left eyebrow. I was always sensitive to blinding light, and loud sounds ever since I was a child. I couldn’t know for sure, especially since I never gave therapy a second chance. I take a quick look at my newly decorated room and beam with adoration.
I was finally able to decorate it however I wanted. More specifically, decorate it with personal polaroid pictures that I’ve collected over the years. Thankfully, Willow Morgan, my compassionate but loud roommate, was able to help me with the workload. As she is majoring in design and marketing, it was only natural for me to ask her for help with decoration. Willow easily obliged and together, we spent one weekend eating Chinese in my room for three days and painting the wall my favorite color navy blue and reorganizing my already organized desk and closet.
I sit up, heading to the bathroom to take a quick shower. I rapidly get dressed, after blow drying my hair and shimmying into skinny jeans and a long sleeved blouse. I grab my bag in the corner of my room, also picked by Willow, situated beside my large desk and grab my wallet, keys to the apartment and phone sitting on the Heaven that is my bed. It is sat horizontally on my desk with a T.V. and a dresser in the front of the room. Complete with a wall of pictures, and my memory box safely stored away in my closet, with more horrible memories than good, the room was now complete to my standards. After one quick look in the mirror, and scrutinizing the length of my brown hair that hung down my back almost to my waist, size of my big brown eyes, and curvy figure, I decided that once again I was ugly, fat, and could not look pretty even if I try. I lower my head into my hands, sighing deeply, and wipe the stray tears escaping from my eyes. I remember that even at my high school in California, I had very few friends. I sank into the crowd as best I could, as to not attract attention to my ugliness and ‘Ashton germs’ as many people liked to call it.
“Willow, your my ride to the fall,” I call, once I run downstairs, hopefully, loud enough for her to hear me.
“Coming!” Is she reply, as she sprints down the hallway, her ombre hair bouncing with each step. Clad in ripped jeans, and a tight tank top that emphasized her natural curves and creamy, unblemished porcelain skin, I wondered who she was trying to impress, before being interrupted by the slam of our front door.
I roll my eyes and see Willow’s newly acquainted boyfriend Ben Cadence come into the room, frantically searching for something of probably zero importance while Willow reluctantly closes the backdoor behind her, probably hoping to help Ben. I scoff at my head, remembering that if I was late, Alex would surely kill me without hesitation.
“I wish I could’ve helped him.” She muttered, a look of regret gracing her already perfect features. She wrung her hands in worry, unlocking the car and sitting in the driver’s seat while gesturing for me to get in the car as well.
“I’m sorry Willow, but Alex would kill me if I was late to hand over the documents.” I say, “Quite literally.” I mumble, as a last thought.
“He wouldn’t kill his own daughter Ash. Sure he is cruel, but that takes it to a new level.” Willow says, scowling at me. Willow was, in a way, the mom of the group and deeply appreciated at that. She would do whatever it took to keep those she loved safe and was a fierce protector. Never mess with a girl who could clear out a shop in under a minute during a black Friday sale.
The drive was short and made up of an uneasy silence with the radio playing softly in the background. Maybe Alex could give me a break after I hand in my assignments? After all, I’ve been working all week and the guilt is smashing my head open. Interrogating innocent families just because of an ancestry connection, and then being ordered to kill them afterward because there was no proof or evidence of them being connected to the case, slowly deteriorates my insanity. With a heavy sigh, I half-heartedly try to conjure up the solutions to my never-ending problems. The fact that Alex has me trapped in more than one way is a problem inside of a problem, but before I could delve deeper into my thoughts, the car engine cutting out brings me back out of my dazed state.
“Good luck Ash. You’re going to need it.” Willow says, smiling slightly, almost as if it was a grimace. I knew what she meant. Alex was one of the most ruthless people in the world, and I was his step-daughter.
Lovely, right?
“Thanks,” I say, smiling softly.
I make my way out of the car, quickly checking to make sure my knife was still secured in my jeans, as it always was, and enter the abandoned warehouse. The guard immediately recognizes me and lets me through to the hallway, where Alex’s house inside of a house was, or as we liked to call it, the ‘Fall’.
I could tell you of the many stories of how his home was named the ’Fall”. Falling into a bottomless pit of death, debt, family sacrifices, or many of the other scenarios that Alex has gladly carried out.
I step into the dimly lit room, scattered with random chairs and T.V.’s, a staircase leading to many bedrooms upstairs, and a small kitchen on the right-hand corner. Alex stands in the middle of the room, overlooking the papers on his old desk. It sat lopsided, shaking whenever Alex laid a hand on it.
Uneasiness and fear settle in my stomach, as I walk to hand the papers down. It was just another case file that I had to give to him, where Alex would overlook the file and tell his team to investigate more or throw it out.
“Here you are, sir,” I say, cautiously retreating backward after handing laying the documents on the table, praying that he would just give me his usual sign to continue the investigation.
“Wait.” He says, in a deep tone.
Well, shit.
“Yes, sir?” I timidly reply, cautious of the ticking time bomb that I was constantly in danger of.
“Damien is filling in for you for the week.” He says, an impartial mask gracing his face. I was partly relieved for the fact that I finally had a break, and partly worried about the position Damien was filling. I can only hope he is ready for the unbelievable storm he is about to face in his life.
“Ok,” I say quickly, retracing my steps back to the door while sighing with relief once I reach the exit. My nerves always stood on edge when I was in that room. Alex was a force to be reckoned with, as I knew from experience. There was always a layer of anger that boiled underneath the surface of his impassive mask, and I already knew the consequences that I would endure if he acted on it.
I walk rapidly to Willow’s car, releasing the breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding once I am safely inside.
“That bad?” She asks, a look of concern on her face.
“Well, there’s good news and bad news,” I say, unraveling the tiny string of fabric hanging off my jacket.
“Good news.” She says, giving me a nervous smile.
“I get a break for the week, so I’m able to go to that party you were wanting me to go to,” I say. Willow squeals and motions for me to continue.
“Bad news is that Damien has taken my place. I just hope he’s ready for his new life. It’s not going to be a pretty one.” I say, exasperated by the energy that has been taken out of me in less than twenty minutes.
I was planning on inviting Willow to our lounge area to grab a few drinks but decided against it. All I needed was a nap to rid me of my exhaustion.
“Really? But you’re much better than him.” She reasons, probably trying to make me feel better.
I scoff, “Are you kidding me? I’m scared half to death by just interrogating people, let alone murdering them from my orders. Damien has no problem doing what I would kill myself before allowing myself to do.” I say.
She nods her head and starts the car, heading back to campus. I hope Ben found whatever he was looking for. Maybe it really was important? Within minutes we arrive back to campus. As I step aside, my breath catches in my throat.
Our large living room was scattered with ripped up pillows, some lying on the dirty floor. Random cups and plates were placed on our coffee table, and a popular video game was set up on our television. I scan my eyes over the kitchen, feeling uneasy of the increased mess that was present in the area. Our black and white modern elements, had splatters of paint etched into the once clean surfaces. It was almost as if someone was desperately searching for something, going to any extent to find it.
“What happened!” Willow exclaims, picking up a piece of shrimp with pinched fingers and a disgusted look. She tosses it across the room and I scan the room again.
My eyes widen and I gasp as I look at the open door of my own room. Willow quickly walks into her room, screeching, “What the hell! My room is a mess!”
I take cautious steps towards my room kicking the door closed with my foot, and my mouth drops open once I see the only clean surface present in my room. Clothes, textbooks, and signs were littered onto the floor, but my black memory box, holding the most important memories of my life, is sat upon my bed. Tears threaten to fill my ears, and I frantically rush to my bed, checking to see if the lock was broken.
I feel my shoulders sag in relief, once I realize that it hasn’t been broken. If anyone or anything saw what was inside that box, my life would be over. I slide against the door, with a broken lock and start to sob, holding the box close to my heart. This box was not just a box. This box, if anything, was a person. A person that had been there for me when no one had, a person that comforted me and reminded me of memories, although some horrible, that I was stronger than what people think, that no matter what people said, I was perfect.
I hear slow steps coming to my door, and a quiet knock. I quickly wipe my tears and look in the broken mirror. I almost start bursting into tears again, as I see what a mess I look like. I open the door and see Willow leaning against the door. She takes a quick peek inside my room and frowns.
“We need to figure out who did this,” I say, looking at her through my eyelashes.
“Who was here before us?” I ask Willow. It takes a moment for her reply but judging by the width of her teary eyes, I can tell she is thinking the exact same thing that I am.
“It couldn’t be him right?” Willow says, gnawing on her bottom lip with a look of nervousness.
“Willow,” I sigh. I remember how frantic Ben was when he entered our apartment, much to my dismay by the key Willow had made for him. He looked in distress and desperately needed to find something. Our dorm was in shreds, balancing on the scale of complete and utter destruction.
“It couldn’t be him,” Willow says, shaking her head furiously with a look of worry present in her baby blue eyes. I could see why she would refuse to accept that Ben would do that, seeing as he was her boyfriend and all, but there was something about him I didn’t trust.
Ever since I was little, I was overly observant. I was keen on seeing every possible detail that the environment around me had to offer. Due to the experiences I’ve had when I was younger, I couldn’t trust people easily. Trust was an immeasurable necessity in a relationship, and I didn’t exactly see that with Ben and Willow. I had known Willow since my junior year in high school. After fantasizing about what college we would go to together, we decided on Boston College. Boston college offered her degree in design and marketing, and my degree in journalism and business. We met Ben in our combined marketing class, and the couple immediately hit it off.
I was fond of Ben, very fond of him. At a height of around 6", and a lean body, beach blonde hair and baby blue eyes, he was as handsome as anyone could ask for. He was kind, and compassionate, offering to carry both of our backpacks to our next class, but I declined to see as I knew he needed to spend more time with Willow.
It has been three months since that day, and only a month ago had I noticed how distant Ben was becoming. Instead of cracking his famous snarky and sarcastic jokes at lunch, he sat there staring at the wall, his eyes dull and his face expressionless. Willow hasn’t noticed, continuing to give him attention and love. I, however, used my observation skills beyond belief. Ben rarely smiled anymore, grimacing was the more appropriate definition of his daily expression. Side hugs and a quick kiss on the cheek was all that Willow received.
“I hate to say it, but-” I start, only to be interrupted by a now angry Willow.
“He wouldn’t!” She yells, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “He wouldn’t, and that is final. Let’s get this place cleaned up.” She declares, her hands set firmly on her waist. I sigh in reluctance and acceptance and follow Willow to the living room. For the next hours, we clean our spacious apartment, all the while humming to popular songs on the radio.
As I lay in my bed that night, I can’t help but wonder about Ben. Would he trash our apartment like this? To find my memory box? My memory box, the one that no one knew about except Willow. I sit up quickly in bed, narrowing my eyes suspiciously to no one but myself. The only way Ben could have known about my memory box is Willow. Would she break my trust like that? I wasn’t sure, but I shake my head slowly remembering how loyal Willow is. Although I try to convince myself of this, I know how head over heels Willow is for Ben. All Ben would have to do is snap his fingers, and Willow could give away the plans of war for North Korea if she wanted to.
I decided to ask her about it tomorrow. No doubt, she’ll be offended by my asking, probably thinking that I didn’t trust her. That was not the case, however. I did not trust Ben, not one bit.
With these thoughts running through my mind, I’m slowly lulled to sleep, welcoming the darkness and temporary peace that my mind will receive in a quite a long time.
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-Mya
