Dice [h.s.]

58

I continued to flip around until I found a photo copied note. It was flat, like paper, and it was in black and white. It was hard to read, but I could tell it was my dad's chicken scrap. He wrote like a doctor, that's why he fit the role so well.

It said something about his plans to kill Harry's father, I think. Wait, what? It explained the plans of hijacking the plane and getting all of the heads of Alea killed. Was he the one who killed Harry's parents?

Oh my god.

I threw the papers to the ground and cupped my face. My father killed Harry's parents? Why? I thought he was trying to get rid of Leonardo? Why would he do this to him? To a poor boy? What if that was me?

My father really is a monster.

I decided to keep looking. There's no way he did this on a whim. He had to be influenced. What sane man would willingly leave five boys as orphans? Why would someone do that?

That's just the thing, my father was not a sane man.

As I kept flipping, more and more pictures of me were hidden inside. Some of me and my mother, others of me and my father when I was younger. Some of these were before Harry was even legally allowed to drive.

So it was his father.

Even after this flood of information, I couldn't find the thing I was looking for. I didn't even know what I was looking for. Before I ruined any more of my conscience, I packed everything up and put it back in the box just the way I found it.

I placed the box back and quickly looked around the room for a safe. I looked in the place Thomas said, nothing. There wasn't anything. This was useless. All I found out was information I could have lived the rest of my life without knowing.

I hurried out of the room and slammed the door behind me. I didn't even bother to fix the keypad. It broke by itself, it wasn't my fault. Plus, my brain was oozing with confusion.

I ran down the stairs, escaping the uneasy feeling of the room. I wanted to vomit. My father killed Harry's parents. He did it to please Leonardo. That note is clear proof.

But how did he get it?

I ran into Harry's kitchen and opened his hidden liquor cabinet which was terribly hidden. I grabbed whatever bottle was closest and sat down at his table. I looked outside mindlessly as the rain poured against the window.

I opened the bottle and took a long drink. Immediately, I knew it was vodka. But I didn't really care, I needed a distraction. I mean, Harry and his father have been taking pictures of me and my family since I was nearly ten.

Ugh, this vodka needs to be stronger.

And Harry continued it. He took pictures of me, private pictures. Now he sits here, pretending that none of it happened. If he had any dignity in himself he would have told me he did this the minute I started to like him.

I don't know if knowing this makes this all better or worse. I'm disgusted and betrayed. But my father, my sick father. He's the reason Harry's parents are dead. And Harry's poor mother wasn't even a part of the plan.
There is no excuse for either of them. I just, I can't believe my father did that. I knew he was a terrible person and he did the most unthinkable things. But making Harry an orphan? A boy he had never met? How could he do that having a daughter nearly in the same situation?

A part of me realizes why he's dead now. A part of me now feels that he deserved it. I know I shouldn't say that, he's my father, and I loved him. But that is what karma feels like. You do bad things, you get bad things in return.