The Fallen Angel

Chapter IX

I walked inside my house, still shaken up by what I had just seen. The sun had set and the street was left under a gloomy darkness. Nathan had insisted on accompanying me to my door, even if it was a few feet away from his car and I felt this was going to become a norm.

"Stay safe," he had whispered in my ear. 

I hung my coat and tied my hair up, walking through the empty house. My Dad was late, again, which was probably better for both of us anyway. I hadn't spoken to him in three days, not since I confronted about my Mother. I either locked myself up in my room or sneaked out of the house before he had the chance to object. It felt like I had lost my Dad to, and it hurt more than I wanted to admit.

I headed for my room, but the door at the end of the hall was calling out to me and I found myself approaching it. It was my Dad's office. I had been in it before, bringing boxes up when we first moved in. To my surprise, it was left unlocked and I strode in, closing the door behind me. His large oak desk took up most of the room along with his black leather chair. There were still unpacked boxes lying around and a pile of papers on the desk.

I sat on the chair and began snooping around, opening files and searching for something that could come in use to me. Most of them were random cases, robberies or break-ins. But one box caught my eye, lying on the ground with the name "Abigail" written in large black letter on the lid. I got up and sat down next to it, hesitantly opening it. It was filled with files, cases ranging around my old town and all the way down the East Coast. I opened each one, unveiling gruesome pictures of different bodies. Most of them had an "X" over them, like he had reached a dead end and started somewhere else, over and over again. 

"Olivia," my heart jumped and I looked up, finding my Dad leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He was still in uniform; he must have just gotten home. I swallowed hard.

He gestured me to follow him with a kick motion of his head and walked away. I got up tentatively and treaded behind him. He led me to the kitchen without a word and I stood in the middle of it, watching him open the fridge and grab a bottle of beer.

"Take a seat," he gestured to the high chair and I obliged, avoiding his gaze. He popped the cap off and propped his elbows on the counter in front of me.

"I know you have questions. But going through my stuff — my private stuff — is not the way to do it." I nodded, playing with my fingers. I felt like a child, being scolded for being caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

"So, go ahead. Ask me a question, and I promise I will answer honestly, no more secrets," he went on and I looked up at him.

"Am I adopted?" I watched his reaction and he looked away.

"Yes."

"Who are my birth parents?"

"I don't know. I have the birth certificate and information in a drawer somewhere, but I never bothered to look at them. And I don't want to, because you're my daughter Olivia, even if it isn't by blood." I sent him a sly smile.

"Can I see the documents?"

"Yes, if you want to. You have a right to know about your lineage."

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Eventually, I was. But your Mother was so much better at these things than I was, and when she..." he hesitated. "When she disappeared, I didn't know how I would bring it up." As he mentioned my Mother, Nathan words echoed in my head, which made me wonder if my Mother ever did love him, or if it was just part of the game they all seemed to play.

"What happened to her?"

"One night, she didn't come home. And then a few days went by and she still hadn't contacted me. There were eye witnesses, but they led nowhere. And I've spent the last nine years searching for her, Olivia," his voice shook. "I haven't stopped looking."