Page 110 of Beneath the Surface

I’ve set a timer on my cell, to make sure I’m in and out of the room in less than five minutes, my brain replaying the code for the safe. Olivia slipped it to me after a media training session yesterday.

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Sucking on my teeth, my stomach knotted so tight I can hardly breathe, I make my way to the photo closest to me and work my way down the line. Skimming my hands along the portraits, I attempt to lift up the bottom of the frames, my fingers running on the wall behind.Not it.

I move to another one, so similar to the one my mother was just staring at in the living room, my hand sliding under the ornate gold rim. It lifts easily, and my heart jumps into my throat as my fingers touch metal. I glance around, my vision searching for the cameras. I can’t see them in here, but I know they exist.

My heart bangs in my eardrums, my hands sweating from nerves as I lift the photo, revealing the safe underneath.

Holy shit. She was telling the truth.

I’ve just reached forward to enter the code, when the sharp crack of wood slats sound from down the hallway. My blood turns to ice, my lungs being punched from fear. I hold my air in, like even the sound of my breathing will alert someone that I’m here.

Did they see me? Is all of this about to go to shit?

I wait for a few moments, but when I don’t hear anything else, I turn back toward the safe, my stomach lighting up like fireworks, sparking off my insides and shooting down my legs.

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A lock unlatches and I blow out a shaky breath, my stomach as tight as a fist. A chill skates over my back, goose bumps sprouting along my arms, and I pause again, my saliva thick as it coats my mouth from the anxiety.

The safe itself is filled to the brim. Gold coins, a few stacks of hundred-dollar bills, files of paperwork. But then, in the back corner, there’s a box, and my gut justknows. Breathing deep, my gut tenses, and I reach behind everything else, grabbing it and unlocking the latch.

Bile immediately churns at the contents. Because Olivia was right. There are pictures. Lots of them. And they aren’t all of her.

My heart squeezes as I sift through the images, my vision blurring with anger from the snippets of depravity that this man who created me caused. On innocent souls. On girls who weren’t even old enough to know better. My phone vibrates in my pocket, alerting me that my five minutes are up, but I stay rooted in my spot, unable to move. Lost in the horror of what he is. OfwhoI’ve been created from.

Noise from the hallway, louder than before, creeps through the walls and my heart jackhammers against my ribs, spurring me into movement. Grabbing all the pictures, I stuff them in my jacket pocket, latching the box and shoving it to the back.

Footsteps grow closer, and my brain whirls, stomach dropping to the floor, hands slippery as they stumble to close the safe and pick up the heavy frame to hang back up on the wall.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I get it back in place, and my eyes furiously scan the room, dread pumping like caffeine through my veins as I try to find a spot to hide, praying like hell that whoever it is, doesn’t try to come in here.

Even if Idohide successfully, they’ll know that the door shouldn’t be unlocked.Fuck.

“Hey, where are you going?” Olivia’s muffled voice flows through the door, and my heart ceases to fucking beat. It must be my father.Shit.I’m frozen in my spot, afraid that if I move, the noise will let him know that I’m here. Their bodies create shadows that filter through the bottom of the door, and I suck in my breath, holding it in my lungs.

My stomach is in knots, tightening further with every second, my forehead collecting beads of sweat like treasure.

“I told you to get presentable, Olivia. We have somewhere to be,” he snaps.

“Well, yeah, but...” Her voice trails off, and I hear something thud, the doorknob jostling from the movement.

My stomach twists.

She giggles. “I wasn’t done with you yet. Come back to the room.” She whispers something else, her voice too low for me to understand.

He groans slightly, and nausea churns in my gut, but it soon turns to relief as I hear footsteps walking away.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I collapse against the edge of his desk, my body shaking from the adrenaline.

Waiting a few more minutes until I’m sure the coast is clear, I blow out unsteady breaths,dyingfor a cigarette to calm the nerves. Walking to the door, I crack it open, looking both ways to make sure the coast is clear, and then walk as fast as possible out of the hallway and back up to my room.

And now, I just pray that no one checks the security footage or notices anything is amiss before we leave.

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