Him |ManxBoy|

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S A L E M

As a child, I knew my father did bad things. I knew that he wasn't a good man, but he had always kept me from witnessing the horrible things he'd done. He kept me far from his murders, his drug deals, and all other kinds of things that he did. When he killed someone, he sent me out away from his home so that I never had to hear it. I was never introduced among his friends, I was hidden away, mainly to protect me. He never discussed business around me. So while I knew he was a bad person, he had always seemed... good, to me.

Him being the leader of the most powerful mafia group based out of New York hadn't ever even crossed my mind. I knew he did bad things, I knew that he was wealthy beyond imagination, and I knew that he had sketchy business meetings late at night... but I didn't know how bad my father really was.

The air in the interrogation room was turned down, I assumed to put me on edge. But, they didn't have to put me on edge, I was already anxious out of my mind. And they had a bulletin board up with pictures of my father's victims, showing me the brutality of his murders. They were trying to scare me, I figured. Trying to get me to testify against him, give them more evidence to lock him up... or give him the death penalty. The pictures in front of me didn't give me any clues, though it did leave me with one question: who was my father? Had I ever truly known him?

I knew of the bad things, but I guess him keeping me separate from it meant that finding out about how bad he really was, was a whole lot worse than how bad I thought he was. There were at least thirty pictures up on the bulletin, and there were pictures of women, half-naked and beaten up. There were so many horrible things depicted in those pictures that I felt dejected. I knew not one single person on that board, and I had seen plenty of people come and go from my residence. But none of them were the people on those boards.

I was curious if they were actually his victims or if they were just trying to pin them on him. I would think that if they were his victims, I'd recognize one of them, right? I mean... not a single one looked familiar.

The door opened, and I jumped, glancing over at the person who walked in. The man, I didn't recognize him, so he must be a different person from the guy that was trying to interview me earlier. He was gorgeous, with sparkling blue eyes, dark hair, and what I could only imagine was the most masculine body I'd ever had the pleasure of witnessing hidden beneath his suit and tie. He shut the door behind him and walked over to the table where I was sitting. "Hello, Salem. I'm Cyrus Reinhardt, and I have some questions for you." He said.

I sat up straight when he called me Salem, unsure of how he got my name. My father had gone to great lengths to cover up my identity, even having a birth certificate drawn up with a false name, with the mother listed as one of the maids in the house. The fact that he knew my name was Salem meant that he must've talked to someone and they told him... but the only people who knew were my father and mother, and the woman whose on my birth certificate.

"How do you know my name?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"I've been discussing some things with your father, among other people. It's an interesting life you have lived, I imagine." He said, sitting down at the table. I shot a quick look over to the bulletin behind him and looked back at him.

"It looked nothing like any of those pictures up there," I said, and he nodded.

"Your father told me how unhelpful you'd be." He said and smiled softly. "Though, I think that you may be some help to us right now. This isn't over your father... well, not exactly." He said.

"All I know is that some men broke into my house and knocked me out. I woke up in the hospital, and once I was cleared, some men in black suits escorted me here. I've been here ever since." I said, looking up at him pleadingly. "I don't know anything. About my father, his work, or... anything else that happened today."