Secret Past

I shouldn't have stumbled on the hole in the floorboards. I shouldn't have looked into that box. I shouldn't have discovered the truth of my father's past. If only I could go back in time before my whole life had changed before my eyes.

***

It was a stormy afternoon; I was vacuuming upstairs in my father's bedroom. He was out working late like he did every day. As I tried to vacuum under the bedside table, I suddenly heard a noise. I turned off the vacuum and moved the furniture. There on the floor, was a break in the floorboards. Curious, I tried to remove the dusty floorboards. Why would my father have a hole in his floor? What does he have to hide? I took a deep breath and peeked inside. A box. A dark green box with a sign read: "Do not open." Well, now I had to open it. I took off the lid and carefully rummaged through the papers and letters. One thing that caught my eye was a dusty old photograph. My heart dropped. In the photograph, a dead crippled man lies in a dark alleyway covered in blood. Spine-chilling thoughts and questions sparked through my mind. I sat there on my father's cold floor confused and anxious. I flipped the photograph and my heart dropped again, but deeper. I could feel it beating out of my chest. A message in messy ink read: "I know what you did. You'll pay for this." My hands trembled as I put the photograph back in its box and under the floorboards. I stood up shaking. Two questions tainted my mind. Why did my father have this photograph hidden under his floorboards and what does this have to do with him?

That evening at the dinner table, I couldn't look him in the eye. Did he kill that man? Was my father capable of murder? I was disturbed by my distressing thoughts when he spoke to me.

"What did you do today?" He asked.

I hesitated. "Nothing much," I answered without looking at him. My eyes darted to his arm, there were scars I have never noticed before. I suddenly had the urge to stare at him in the eye.

"Where did you get those scars?"

"Oh, these ones? It was from my accident last year."

Last year, he came home one day with dark blood painted

all over his arms. He claimed that he fell off his bike on the road. I believed him until today. I suddenly lost my appetite.

"I'm tired, I'm going to bed." I announced. My father smiled at me.

"Good night."

I tossed and turned all night. The photograph stuck in my mind; I couldn't stop thinking about it. That night, I dreamt about my father killing this man right in front of me.

The next morning, I was woken up by the mysterious phone call next door in my father's bedroom. I tried to listen in but I could only decipher mumbling. Once he walked into the living room, I asked him the question I was afraid to ask.

"Who were you on the phone with?"

"Just a colleague at work." He replied in a stressed manner. I knew he was lying.

"What were you talking about?" Murder?

"Work. All that boring stuff." Lies.

I hated him. I couldn't even recognise my own father. I almost felt like I didn't know the man I had been living with my whole life. I abruptly left the room and stormed into my bedroom. I didn't know what to do. Should I call the police? Should I talk to a therapist? I did what any other person would do when they find out their father could be a murderer. I broke down as tears fell down my face. I found myself dialling 000. It only took a second before a lady picked up.

"Hello, what is your emergency?"

"Um... I think my father killed someone." I stuttered.

Suddenly, the line disconnected. The footsteps from outside were louder and louder as they neared my door. I sprinted to my door and locked it.

"Sweetie, can you unlock the door?" My father gently asked. I am going to die. "Honey, please. Why are you calling 000?" My heart started to beat faster and faster. "C'mon. Open this door!" He demanded. My hands started to shake. "Open the goddam door!"

I stopped thinking and bolted out the window. Once I jumped off the roof, I started to run. At first, I didn’t know where I was running. I just wanted to get out of there. I didn't feel safe in my own home anymore. The next thing I remembered; I'm outside the police station. I entered the building and stood there shaking. Tears fell down my cheek. I noticed a lady at a desk who had a sign above her that read: "Reception" so I walked up to her.

"Hello there, how can I help you?" The lady smiled.

"Um... I think my father killed someone."

The lady's smile disappeared.

"Hold on a moment, dear. Have a seat in the waiting room and someone will come to speak with you." She informed.

I waited in the waiting room for what felt like forever. A policeman walked into the room and called me to follow him. He led me into another room. I sat down on the chair in front of the man.

"So, why have you come in today?"

"I think my father killed someone, last year."

"And why do you think that?"

"I found a photograph of a dead man on the road covered in blood with a confronting message that read: "I know what you did. You'll pay for this." It was hidden in a box under his floorboards."

"Has he ever hurt you?"

"No."

"Do you have any other family?"

"My mother died when I was 5."

"Do you feel safe in your home?"

"No. Not at all."

"We'll get a search warrant for your house soon; in the meantime, you can stay here protected."

"Thank you." The man left the room with notes that he had written during the session. Then, a woman took me into the dorm quarters where I would be staying for a couple of days.

The next day, the same policeman entered my room. He had a serious look on his face. "We searched your house. We found some strange evidence and we now have your father in custody. You'll be moving into an orphanage next week, where you'll be safe."

"Thank you." Once the man left my room, I gazed out the window. A warm feeling appeared. I felt safe.

***

Two months have gone by. I now live in an orphanage. I've met new friends and I feel safe and happy. One rainy morning, a note is passed under my door. I walk over and pick it up. It's a letter with my name and the address of the orphanage on it. I suddenly have an unsettling feeling run down my spine. Could this be a letter from my father from prison? I carefully open the letter. Fear jolts through my body. Inside, there's a photograph of a man dead in a park, again covered in blood. On the back, there's a message that read: "I know what you did. You're next, get ready to join your father." I rip the letter into tiny pieces and throw them out the window. I watch the pieces fly through the air, wanting it all to disappear, for this nightmare to disappear and my fear for the future to disappear. Darkness lurks around me, trapped by fear and anxiety. I suddenly feel unsafe again. I am frightened for my life.