Page 51 of White Rabbit

Pushing a stack of papers towards me, he refuses to look me in the eye. “Here is the documentation for our termination process, it’s all very clear cut.”

“I’m sorry...pardon?” My heart almost stops. He was firing me. If he fired me, how would I see Elijah?

“Officer Gibbs is waiting just outside to help you gather your things and escort you to your car. Please do not stop to talk to any former colleagues or inmates as you vacate the premises.” He fidgets with his hands and shuffles some more papers before putting them back on the desk. Still, he avoids my gaze like a coward.

My tongue feels thick and heavy in my mouth as I stare at the man sitting before me. “I’m being fired.”

Would Eli think I’d just left him? After all our talks about trust, would he know I wasn’t choosing to leave him? Or would he think it was some sort of betrayal?

I’m no longer nervous or anxious. I’m pissed.

Warden Williamson loosens his tie slightly, a layer of sweat forming on his forehead.

“How many others?” I ask curtly as I cross my legs and fold my hands on my knee.

He glances to my left and clears his throat.

“How many others are being let go?” I demand, sick of the games. “Is it just me?”

“Well...I can’t disclose…that…information.” His words are stuttered and shaky. Why had I ever been intimidated by this man? He was all about appearances, and underneath it all he was just a limp, soggy noodle of a human.

I nod, clicking my tongue, unimpressed. “Just me then.”

One nil to the Judge.

He was only cementing what we already knew, that my father was involved in whatever this was up to his neck. His attempt at trying to control me only revealed his involvement further. There’s no other reason he’d interfere like this. It also tells me that Warden Williamson is clearly in my father’s pocket somehow. Bribery? Blackmail? Perhaps they played golf together? Something wasn’t adding up.

However, my father was mistaken if he thought I was going to sit around while he ruined my life. If he wanted a war, I was only too happy to oblige. Even hell couldn’t keep me from Elijah Creed. It’s time my father learned that.

I’d carried all my belongings out to my car in a large plastic box, Gibbs trailing behind me with more. During my time at Ogmore Grange, I’d accumulated more than I originally thought.

Gibbs’ face had been apologetic, and I knew he wanted to ask me what was going on, but the warden had been very clear in his instructions not to talk to me when he showed me out of his office.

It’s on the drive to my father’s house that I come to the revelation that I no longer have a job. I have nothing to prove to my father except that he once again underestimated me.

Parking my car away from the house, three streets over in case my father returned earlier than usual, I walked over to my childhood home. I’d found a black hoodie in my car boot, and armed with a pocket knife, a USB stick, and a lot of repressed rage, I let myself in. I usually knocked and waited to be let in, out of respect for my father, and of course Elsie more than anything, but today was different. Today, all the rules have changed.

As I push open the door quietly, I hear the vacuum being used upstairs and thank my lucky stars I don’t have to face Elsie. It wasn't fair to involve her in the battle of wills between my father and me, especially not when he was more volatile than ever.

My father’s office is just to the right, on the ground floor. It’s a large room overlooking the front garden and filled with floor to ceiling bookshelves. On one wall, there’s a huge print of an old world map, probably brought in by my mother. She loved decorating, and the neutral tones combined with all the dark mahogany woods and gold accents in the room seemed like something she would have taken hours over, considering. My father was less particular about how the rooms looked as long as his chair was comfortable.

His desk sits perpendicular to the window and is one of the most chaotic things I've ever seen. For a man so particular about every other aspect of his life, his workspace was a mess.

Switching on his computer, I almost bury my face in my hands and laugh when it logs me straight in. My father was in a position of power, had an important career and had for over twenty years, yet he couldn’t even password protect his desktop?

Pulling the memory stick out of my pocket, I slide it into the USB port. I don’t have time to play around. I was just going to copy what I could and get out.

As the files copy across, I comb through his emails. They’re mostly boring, discussions with legal people, lobbyists, campaigners, some from members of the public. SolTech seems to creep up repeatedly. Amongst the drudge are a few odd ones, so I forward those to myself. Stumbling across some sort of member subscription for a service called Toska, I shudder.

What if it was a porn subscription?

Ew.

My eyes water when I notice the total on the bottom of the page. No porn was that expensive, was it? No, I wasn’t going down that rabbit hole. Not today.

Once I’ve finished with his emails and his online calendar, I start on the physical papers scattered all over the place. There are several sheets of paper with his chicken-scratch handwriting scribbled everywhere, as if he was furious when he was writing on them. His rage really had permeated and tainted everything. How had I not seen it that way before? If I had, would I have tried to fit into the mold of a perfect daughter? Or would I have told him to sit on it and spin years ago?

As I scan the documents with my phone, deciding that no; it was too late to dwell on what-ifs and maybes. I was going to pull the rug out from under his feet and show him I may not have a bark, but my bite was deadly.

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